


Countdown from Nine

by MailOrderBride



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: (natural) enemies to lovers, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Blood and Violence, M/M, Mythology References, POV Alternating, Rating May Change, Shapeshifting, Slow Burn, cryptids with benefits, dubious consent due to vampire charm shenanigans, eventual smut (the extent of which is yet to be determined), when you shoot for Only Lovers Left Alive and land among the What We Do In The Shadowses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28011945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MailOrderBride/pseuds/MailOrderBride
Summary: A rogue Vampire with a leather jacket and an irrefutable request arrives on Lord Qian’s doorstep. Kun agrees to help him; a mistake on his part, of course, because the stranger’s small favour draws him into an (un)life of dangerous politics, unresolved mysteries, and ill-mannered dogs.After a while, Kun can’t help but wonder what kind of Vampire this ‘Ten’ really is.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun
Comments: 94
Kudos: 160





	1. Discord

♔

The note rang out, discordant and unpleasant. Kun Qian sighed, holding the key down until the jangling pitch dissipated. He tried a few other keys, grimacing whenever another one betrayed the grand piano’s poor tune. 

He’d expected this as soon as the winter rains began, though he’d hoped to have a little more time to play before the humidity started warping the instrument’s delicate inner workings. The melody bounced around his head impatiently, waiting to be released through Kun’s expert fingers — but it would have to wait.

He stood up from his stool and walked over to a cherry-wood cabinet, taking out a small box with a silver latch. Kun pulled the sleeve of his sweater over his hand before flicking it open.

Placing the box on his piano stool, he removed the tools he needed: metal tuning hammers, rubber mutes and crimson felt strips, as familiar in his hands as the ivory keys themselves.

It took a while. Longer than he expected, which made his brow furrow in annoyance. The piano was extraordinarily old, which gave it a rich and powerful sound — but also made it creak and mewl like a geriatric every time the seasons so much as _thought_ about changing. 

Kun smiled to himself as he tweaked the tuning lever back and forth, striking the keys hard, then softer, then hard again. This piano wasn’t even as old as he was — so what would that make _him ?_ He shuddered at the thought of his peers hearing his inner thoughts right now— they always had a lot to say about his age, as if they themselves weren’t ancient in the eyes of most humans. Young Master Liu always had the most quips, at his humble fifty years - though, like the rest of them in Kun's Circle, he hardly looked a day over twenty.

He continued working, falling into a long-familiar rhythm. Muting, testing, tweaking, then moving onto the next set of strings. How many times had he tuned a piano in his life? Thousands, hundreds-of-thousands of times? Each one was a little different and had its own little quirks and preferences. This one in his ballroom was particularly indignant — but he liked his instruments to have a little bit of cheek.

Immortality would be dull without those little challenges.

If he didn’t already have perfect pitch in his mortal life, nearly two hundred years of prolonged existence would certainly have fine-tuned it eventually. The benefits of a life with no deadline, he supposed — eventually, you can become perfect.

Well, so he’d heard. He couldn’t be sure that applied to him much.

About an hour went by before he considered the tuning to be complete. He shut the piano and almost walked away before remembering what he even sat down to do: the melody.

The one that went...it went like…

Kun frowned, his fingers rising and wiggling absently in the air while he tried to hum out the tune. He reached for the pitch, the chords, the first three notes, anything — but it was gone. Buried under the dozens of dis-harmonies he’d spent the last while correcting.

He huffed a sigh. It was a good melody too. He remembered that much, at least. Maybe it would come back to him again…

Or maybe not, he decided, somewhat bitterly. 

It rarely did anymore.

He glanced at the clock: just after six in the evening. The others would be arriving in a few hours -- the prompt ones, at least. So...Sicheng, perhaps. The rest would likely trickle in late, excuses and fluttering eyelashes pre-prepared before arriving at Kun’s doorstep in the woods. Kun shook his head, indulging in some preemptive irritation. Infinite time really killed a man’s sense of courtesy. He hoped against hope that everyone would be on time tonight, of all nights. It was important.

He cast a glance to the opened letter on the desk, bits of broken crimson wax peppering the tabletop. He rolled tension out of his shoulders.

Quite important, indeed.

He still had a bit of time before the meeting. Enough to get properly dressed, meander down to the city which began where the forest ended, make a charming young acquaintance and beg just a little bit of their time.

It had been a few weeks since Lord Qian fed.

♔

Of course, she was heart-achingly pretty. Kun tended to prefer the pretty ones, even though the looks ultimately didn’t matter. She was raven-haired, tall, dappled with beauty marks from her face to her chest and down her arms. She was taken in by Kun from the moment he said hello, and her hands were already finding any excuse to touch him by the end of their first turn about the dance floor. She was coquettish, curious, adventurous, and he could smell it all in her blood -- especially when it rose to just under her skin when she blushed.

A dark corner was easy to find, away from the din of the party -- some high society snob’s engagement shindig, tacky but lively. She welcomed his embrace, letting his hands roam wherever they pleased, closing her eyes and tipping her head back in invitation. Kun pressed some kisses there obligingly. He pressed them there, then pressed them lower, and smiled against her chest whenever she whimpered. She wanted more, naturally. In fact, she was so thoroughly bewitched, that she didn’t seem to care when his hand circled her wrist, bringing it to his mouth. 

So deeply under his spell, that she didn’t even jerk away when he sank his fangs into her flesh, and drank.

He only needed a little. But drinking it made time slow down for him – a syrupy, heady few seconds until he found it in himself to pull away. There was always, always that sweet spot in-between: the apex of the feed, where he drunkenly teeters on a tightrope — the gossamer-fine border between _enough_ and _more . More and more and more and—_

He pulled away from her, simultaneously snapping a kerchief from his pocket and pressing it to her wrist. He licked the blood off of his teeth while murmuring sugary comforts to her, patiently letting his fast-acting venom clot her wound. She groaned under a daze of desire, of pain, of blood loss, and of a supernatural dulling of her memories.

Kun carried her to the chaise lounge a few steps away, laying her down gently so that she could slip into sleep -- and hopefully wake up somewhere comfortable, not-too-surprising, and overlooking a charming view of the city.

He gave her a small, appreciative pat on her head, and then was on his way back home.

♔

It was close to one in the morning by the time everyone was seated around Kun’s (entirely ornamental) dining table.

As expected, Sicheng had arrived first, and had shared a bottle of wine with Kun while they waited. Kun was always glad to spend a bit of time alone with ‘Boss Dong’, as he affectionately called him. He was just a few decades shy of Kun’s age, and was refreshingly level-headed. He thought deeply and said little, and simmered with an often underestimated power inside him. Kun was always glad that he had Sicheng on his side. In case of emergency.

The rest sauntered into Kun’s manor at their leisure eventually: Kunhang, Xuxi, Young Master Liu (‘please...just Yangyang’) and Dejun. Dejun, notably, had been chatting away animatedly about something, from the moment he arrived to the moment he sat down.

The Circle got a few mundane matters out of the way first, discussing their respective financial and logistical matters, as well as keeping tabs on drinking habits. No accidents, thankfully — the last thing Kun wanted to deal with right now was hiding a body.

Kun decided to question Dejun about his supposedly big news before dropping his own.

‘Don’t all jump on me before you hear me out,’ Dejun started. ‘‘But I think the Civitas are up to something.’

‘What else is new?’ Kunhang said drily.

‘No, like _really_ up to something. They have two new guys, and all of them are hanging around in the city way more. Some of them look...bigger, somehow? Strong. Like they’ve been working out.’

Sicheng gave him a tired but patient smile. ‘Are you turning our Circle meeting into an exploration of your muscle envy?’

Dejun rolled his eyes. ‘No! I just think something is going on, and they’re getting way too comfortable hanging around humans as much as they are right now. Drawing attention. Am I the only one worried about this? Stop looking at me like that. You guys are the worst.'

'Even if they were planning something,' Kun said. 'They wouldn't dare break their treaty with us. It's signed, on paper, and sealed in our blood. Well, mostly mine. Circle Civitas wouldn't be so stupid as to stir something up for no good reason, just for the sake of the rivalry.'

Dejun hummed skeptically. 'I think you give them too much credit. Anyway, there’s another, even bigger problem.’

‘What’s that? ‘Kun asked, straightening in his seat.

‘Lord Qian,’ Dejun said, his countenance suddenly solemn. ‘I need you to let me keep the puppy.’

Kun’s mouth fell open. ‘You still have it? I _told_ you to give it to the wolf sanctuary! Dejun!’

Dejun clasped his hands together in a begging gesture. ‘Yes, I know you did, but listen: Please. I love her. I love her so much. And you _have_ to allow me to keep a pet if I ask nicely.’

‘I do not! I said no wolves in our territories, it’s…’ Kun pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘It’s an ecosystem thing, you can’t just keep a wolf—’

‘—part wolf—’

‘Oh my God, _a part is still a lot ._ Those things are wild! Get rid of it!’

Sicheng put a placating hand on Dejun’s arm. ‘Bella is very cute, but I agree with Kun. If he says you can’t keep it, you can’t. He’s the leader, you know.’

‘Wrong,’ Dejun said, lifting his chin. ‘It’s actually my right to keep her, if I found her and bonded with her. She’ll be my _familiar_. It’s in the Vampire Constitution, look it up.’ 

Looks were rapidly exchanged around the table. 

‘The fucking what?’ Xuxi asked.

Kun tipped his head back against his chair in exasperation. ‘There’s no such thing as a “Vampire Constitution”, Dejun. Who told you that?’

Dejun shot up out of his seat, chest puffed out, aflame with sudden indignation. ‘Yangyang! Yangyang told me that!’ 

Kun rolled his eyes over to their resident rascal, who was casually rubbing his jaw, trying to hide a smirk. Kun could never mistake that twinkle in his eyes for anything other than _mischief ._

Snickering broke out across the room.

‘You’re such a jackass,’ Xuxi said, smacking Dejun’s thigh with the back of his hand. 

‘How am I a jackass?’ Dejun protested, fingers splayed against his chest in disbelief. ‘I’m a victim – I was lied to!’

‘Aren’t Vampires meant to be cunning?’ Kunhang inquired pleasantly. 

‘ _You_ be quiet!’ Dejun snapped. He whirled around on Yangyang, crimson coattails lifting in a magnificent arc. Kun shook his head — the man never had a more acute flair for drama then when he was being defensive. 

‘Yangyang,’ Dejun said accusingly. ‘You told me there was legal protection for Vampires—’

‘Administered by _whom_?!’ Sicheng asked, incredulous. 

‘The Transylvanian Lawyer’s Guild, your honour,’ Yangyang answered, chin tilted up in pride.

‘Objection!’ Kunhang cried.

‘Sustained!’ Xuxi vollied, grinning.

Another peal of laughter. Dejun threw his hands up and cast his gaze to the ceiling, jaw set in annoyance. The noise of the chamber rose to a din of jeers and teasing. 

‘Sorry for lying about your legal options as a cryptid,’ Yangyang said, patting Dejun’s arm consolingly.

Dejun scowled and pulled his arm away, before gesturing aggressively to the gathered Circle members.

‘And what’s this, then? This is like a government! We’re having...a meeting…we’re discussing.. _. things_ — issues, matters, politics—’

‘This isn’t politics,’ Kunhang said, waving a dismissive hand. ‘This is organised cooperation for the common good of our kind.’

Dejun stared at him pointedly before giving an exaggerated nod.

‘I suppose that does sound like a government...’ Xuxi mused, lips pursing thoughtfully. 

Murmurs of agreement from some mingled with the scandalised outcry of others.

‘This is _nothing_ like a government—’ 

‘—we’re actually competent—’

‘—‘ha, I hope you’re not speaking for yourself...’

‘—piss off. I won’t hear that from a _little_ _witch boy —’_

_‘— oh my god anyone can have a familiar not just witches —’_

‘—gentlemen, all this over a dog—’ 

Their leader stared, exhausted, at the painting on the wall across from him. This was a mess.

Kun clapped his hands twice. The members immediately settled down, though Yangyang and Kunhang seemed to quickly and privately exchange something with their hands under the table. Money? They can’t be serious...

‘There is something important we have to talk about,’ he said, standing, and desperately needing things to move along. ‘Really important.’ 

Xuxi folded his hands obediently. ‘We’re all ears, Lord Qian.’ 

‘The Viscount is coming to visit,’ Kun stated.

‘Your Sire, the Viscount? _That_ Viscount?’ Sicheng asked, stone-faced.

‘Yes.’

There was a beat.

‘I’m going home,’ Kunhang said, motioning to leave his seat.

‘Yep, me too,’ came Dejun.

‘Please don’t be like this,’ Kun pleaded, expression pained. ‘Listen to me.’

Sicheng sighed. ‘Kun, it’s nothing personal. It’s just that we don’t want to meet the scariest Vampire that’s ever existed.’ 

‘That is...fair,’ Kun agreed. ‘But he specifically asked that my entire Circle be here. He said in his letter.’

‘Wonderful, we’re his menu by special request…’ Dejun muttered.

‘Back up,’ Yangyang interjected. ‘His Sire is the “scariest Vampire that’s ever existed”? _Kun 's_ Sire? Kun’s just a teddy bear with fangs. He’s like my second, more immortal mom.’ 

Kun mimed a strangling motion in Yangyang’s direction.

‘I’m just saying,’ the youngest one continued. ‘Like, this Viscount can’t really be that bad. Kun turned out so nice.’

Kun shook his head. ‘He _is_ that bad, Yangyang. But not to his own kind. Usually.’

‘So he wouldn’t hurt you, would he?’ Xuxi asked, eyes wide. Sometimes Kun thought him far too babyfaced to be one of God’s perfect killing machines.

‘I certainly hope not, Xuxi.’

‘Please give us a more definitive answer than that,’ Dejun pleaded.

‘Vamp daddy would never, right?’ Yangyang proffered. 

Kun levelled a searing look at him. ‘Count your days, Yangyang. He’s not even like a father to me. He’s just my creator, I guess. A distant, former custodian. Regardless, the Viscount shouldn’t — won’t _—_ have any issues with us. He and I haven’t seen each other in over a hundred years, not since I was...well, since I was younger. I’m sure this visit is more a courtesy than anything else. I just want us all to be prepared for anything, all right? He can be a little...inscrutable.’

‘When will he get here?’ Sicheng asked.

‘Two months from now,’ Kun replied. ‘On the night of the full Moon.’

Eye rolls and groans filled the room.

‘Wooooow,’ Dejun droned.

‘That’s, like, such a cliché,’ Yangyang followed. 

Kun sighed heavily. ‘Please be serious. That’s when he’s coming, and that’s that. Behave. Don’t draw attention from the town, don’t piss off any other vampires — especially not the Civitas — and keep your ears open for anything strange in the upcoming weeks. The Viscount is old, very old, and more powerful than any of us can even imagine. Where he goes, strange things seem to follow.’

After a moment of processing, Dejun asked, ‘What about what I said earlier?’ 

‘You can’t keep the dog.’

‘No, no, not that — and I’m keeping Bella, by the way — but about Civitas? I really do think something weird is going on, and if the Viscount is coming…’

Kun sighed. ‘You’re right, of course. I’ll keep an eye on them, but not too close. Hopefully they’ll stick to the treaty and leave us well alone. Thank you, Dejun.’ 

The Circle adjourned their meeting, and relaxed into some banter while Kun went to fetch more wine. He was relieved to have gotten all that out of the way, but...something did feel _off_. Some called it paranoia, while others called it highly-attuned Vampiric intuition — either way, he didn’t like it. If Dejun was right, and their rival Circle was making moves (for power? For territory? For showmanship?), then that was just another complication in Kun’s already strained Lordship over this area. 

He has his own Circle, of course. A family, or close enough to it. But in the end, he was still a lone man — ah, a lone Vampire — in a too-big house with nothing but music notes for company. And even those were beginning to fade.

He shook the thoughts out of his head. At least his friends were here now, and he could enjoy their bickering voices for a little while more, until they parted ways to attend to their own affairs again.

He’d miss them though. A lot.

_Ding-dong!_

Kun looked up in confusion. The din of the others’ voice died down suddenly too, all turning to listen. 

Who would be ringing Lord Qian’s doorbell at _this_ hour?

He fixed up his jacket and ran a hand through his hair — force of habit — before making his way to the massive double door at the entrance hall. He quickly checked his face in the mirror for red corneas or elongated fangs. Not that there was reason for them to be out, but he’d rather not accidentally spook a human paying some bizarre wee-hour visit to a forest mansion. 

He opened the doors and peered out. He heard the guest before he saw them.

‘Over here, handsome.’

Kun’s sharp ears pinpointed the sound immediately and snapped his eyes to its location: a figure sitting cross-legged on the front-courtyard bench to the right of the entrance. They were casual, relaxed, and inspecting their nails.

Kun had a sick feeling that this wasn’t just some human he could charm into leaving.

Then the figure stood, and began to saunter over. 

Nope – definitely not a human. Kun didn’t recognise him, but only another Vampire could carry himself with this level of audacity. With his hackles raised, Kun stepped out to meet him.

The man was shorter, physically smaller than Kun — though his stature belied an immense presence. The stranger stopped before him, hands in his pockets and with the posture of a statue to some kind of God: dynamic, commanding, and eternal. He was covered in jewels, from his ears to his wrists and even his fingers, each bearing a ring. His hair was slicked-back, as black as ink, with a stylish fallen lock in the front (Kun groaned internally). It had a liquid shine that matched his studded leather jacket. 

Kun’s lip quirked into scowl, already antagonised by that choice of clothing. It seemed so... _typical._ A ‘bad boy’ look for a young Vampire? Predictable. Tacky. He couldn’t be any older than Yangyang. 

As hard as it was to overlook the man’s aesthetics, nothing spoke louder than his eyes — feline, dark, and evidently lined with kohl, lending his gaze a certain wildness; a ferocity, perhaps, if Kun didn’t play his cards right. He wondered if he should feel intimidated — but, if anything, he felt provoked.

As if reading Kun’s thoughts (could he?), the stranger offered up an arrogant smirk. Then he stepped forward.

Kun remembered himself. ‘No further.’

He stopped mid-step, raising a brow.

‘Who are you?’ Kun demanded.

‘A welcome guest, hopefully,’ the man replied. 

‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ Kun said curtly.

Behind him, Kun heard his circle start gathering behind him. He hoped, fruitlessly, that they painted an intimidating picture for the stranger. In all likelihood, they were probably huddled at his back like curious children. Dejun had most likely carried his wine glass outside too, that decadent idiot.

‘I don’t recognise you,’ Kun continued. ‘Who are you?’

The other man seemed to think about it, looking up and away and pursing his lips thoughtfully. ‘You can call me Ten.’

‘Thank you,’ Kun replied. ‘That tells me nothing.’

‘As intended.’

Kun was getting impatient. ‘Can I help you, _Ten_?’

‘Yes, please,’ Ten said honey-sweetly. ‘I’m staying here for the night, so if you could just show me to my room, that would be amazing.’

Kun stared. 

‘You must, miraculously, have the wrong address,’ he said drily. ‘Either that or you’re trying to piss me off. Regardless, I’m not letting you stay here, whoever you are, so be on your way.’

Kun started turning around, before the stranger halted him with a ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’. 

Ten stepped a little closer — sashayed closer, even. Every step sent ripples through Kun’s deep well of annoyance.

‘The thing is,’ Ten purred. ‘You _have_ to let me stay.’

‘I’d love for you to tell me why,’ Kun said through gritted teeth.

The stranger reached into his jacket and procured something small enough to fit in his fist. A slender chain swung from it.

‘Here you go,’ he sing-songed, offering up his open palm with the object. ‘My key to the hotel room.’ 

Kun stepped forward and grabbed it by the chain. It was some kind of pendant, or talisman. He lifted it up for inspection.

And then he froze.

Yangyang finally spoke. ‘What is that, Kun?’

Kun gathered himself — barely. ‘It’s…it’s a Mark of the Viscount.’

Sicheng sucked his teeth. The others only managed a ‘huh?’.

‘How the hell did you get this?’ Kun demanded.

Ten pouted in mock offense. ‘You make it sound like I stole it or something. Maybe I got it as a gift from my Sire? Didn’t _your_ Sire give you one?’

‘Actually,’ Yangyang started. ‘Kun’s Sire is—’ 

‘Shush, Yangyang,’ Kun warned.

‘Sorry,’ Dejun piped up. ‘But what is going on?’

Kun ignored him. He pinched the bridge of his nose for the second time tonight. 

‘Why here?’ he asked. ‘We’re not the only sanctuary around.’

‘Oh, I know that,’ Ten said, shoving his hands back into his pockets. ‘But the only other Circle nearby doesn’t like me.’

Kun’s eyes narrowed. ‘And why not?’

‘Go ahead and ask them yourself. That is, if they don’t gut you the moment they see you, of course.’

The others in Kun’s Circle became a menagerie of confused noises behind him. 

Xuxi spoke up first. ‘What does he mean, Kun? I thought this ‘thing’ with those guys was...under control...’

‘It is!’ Kun snapped. ‘This man doesn’t know what he’s talking about.’

‘Don’t be a liar, Lord Qian,’ Ten purred, stepping right into Kun’s space. Kun glared at him down his nose. ‘I know that things are extra sour between you and the Circle of Civitas. They don’t make a secret of it, even if _you_ do.’

‘Nice try, stranger,’ Kun said. ‘But you clearly know less about me than you’d like to think. Now, why shouldn’t I just march you to the Civitas’ doorstep and let you work out your differences?’

‘Because I like your house more than theirs. You have a rose garden.’ The stranger curled his hand gently around Kun’s fist, where he held the talisman. ‘Plus, you already took the Mark. I’m officially your esteemed guest now, aren’t I, my Lord?’

Kun blinked. Then he swore — loudly, suddenly and with immense feeling. Yangyang jumped in shock.

‘My deepest apologies,’ Dejun said politely. ‘But, once again, can someone kindly tell me what the absolute fuck is going on?

‘I’ll do the honours,’ Ten replied, side-stepping Kun to address the rest of them. ‘Since it seems Lord Qian’s never bothered to teach you anything.’

‘Hey!’ Kun warned.

‘Well, there’s no avoiding it now, is there? Let me finish. There’s an old rule among Vampires – we call it the Unspoken Law of Sanctuary. Friend or foe, if another Vampire presents the Mark of the Viscount—’ Ten gestured helpfully to Kun, who was scowling — ‘they can request a lovely little stay of protection. Isn’t that nice?’

‘A _limited_ stay of protection,’ Kun butted in. 

Ten waved his hand. ‘Sure, sure. And since brother Qian so graciously took the talisman from my poor, pleading, outstretched fingers, that was his way of agreeing to take me in. Am I right?’

‘Don’t call me ‘brother Qian’, and yes. You’re right.’ Kun looked miserable.

Xuxi whistled in astonishment. Kunhang and Sicheng exchanged wide-eyed looks. Yangyang offered a quiet “holy shit”, and Dejun was _fuming ._

‘“Unspoken Laws”, you say?’ Dejun asked, in a frighteningly level voice. ‘Rules that Vampires are inherently obligated to follow, you say?’

Ten nodded, grinning.

‘Oh, no…’ Kun muttered. ‘Dejun, this—’

‘So there _is_ a Vampire Constitution! There _are_ legalities and rules and civil protections, Yangyang, you sick son of a—!’

‘—I didn’t know! I’m, like, five minutes old in Vampire time! I don’t know shit! I told the truth by accident!’

‘You made me look like a jackass!’ 

Ten let out a peal of laughter. He wiped at the corners of his eyes theatrically, as if they were tearing up.

‘I think this guy’s made us _all_ look like jackasses,’ Yangyang conceded, looking back to Ten. They smiled at each other, Kun noticed with anguish.

Yangyang nodded once at the stranger. ‘Respect.’ 

Ten, the arrogant bastard, thanked him.

Kun roughly pocketed the talisman — an iron-wrought but finely-crafted pendant that fit into his palm, engraved with complex pictures and Latin words — and grabbed Ten by the elbow. Ten snapped his head to look at him, giving him an appraising once-over. 

‘There’s another side to this agreement,’ Kun said. ‘I hope you didn’t forget that. It’s _my_ Sanctuary, so you follow _my_ rules. You can stay one month, and not a day more. That’s the maximum that little agreement allows, got it? I’m being generous.’ 

‘Sure thing, mommy,’ Ten said. 

Kun bristled, not appreciating the way Yangyang and Dejun started snickering. ‘I’ll make it one week.’

‘I’m just teasing,’ Ten said, winking at the other two. ‘I’ll be out of here in one month, _and not a day more ._ Promise. And I won’t cause any trouble on purpose.’

Kun unhanded him and gave him a stern look. 

In return, Ten flashed a brilliant smile. ‘So...may I finally come in?’ 

♔

For a long while, Ten happily fielded questions from the curious younger Circle members, while Kun reluctantly dragged the group around for a ‘tour’ — mostly involving showing Ten which rooms _not_ to go into — before leading him to the guest quarters where he’d be resting during the day. Ten thanked him with a wretchedly smug glint in his eye, before skittering away to ‘do some exploring of his own’. Kun demanded that the other members go with him, and everyone liked the idea far too much for Kun’s liking.

They disappeared into the surrounding forest, their lively conversation disappearing into the damp wood and peat.

Much to his chagrin, the sound of the stranger’s — Ten’s — self-important laughter echoed in his mind relentlessly. The high pitch of it, the patronising way his voice dropped into a sigh at the end of it, the way it lilted and played with Kun’s nerves from the moment he heard it to the moment he lay his head down on this bed. It was night, and he should be _doing something_ — not praying for mistimed sleep so that he didn’t have to think about the last few hours. But here he was.

He felt an itch within him, an agitation he hadn’t felt in years, perhaps decades. This ‘Ten’ was determined to make himself a problem, and he was going to smirk and scoff and chuckle his way under Kun’s skin until it drove him insane. A month before seeing his Sire again.

_A brat,_ Kun thought, scowling with his eyes crinkled shut. _A brat with a grating laugh —_

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. Wait. _Wait._ There — right there, in his mind, he could hear it again: the melody from before. The one he sat down to compose before his piano answered him tunelessly, and then forgot.

He got up and marched for the door, veered around the corner for the stairs to walk — then half-jog, then _run_ — down to the ballroom, the trip feeling endless now that he was desperate to reach his piano before the melody could disappear again. He didn’t know how it came back, and why, and how long it would stay. But he held on tight to the notes in his head, fingers stretching with muscle memory at his side until he reached his destination.

He opened the grand hastily before sitting, hands moving automatically across the keys before he could even think about it. What once was lifeless in his mind — just a dead idea, a broken promise — was now becoming reincarnated through the strings. He didn’t need his eyes open anymore; the chords he needed were right there, rushing from his heart to the keys like blood. Effortless, even though it was new and unfinished — it felt familiar, this feeling. The excitement, the challenge, the novelty of composing a piece that didn’t exist until he made it exist. He hadn’t felt this way in years. So, so many years.

_God_ _,_ Kun thought blissfully. _Maybe there’s hope for me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHAWTY'S LIKE A MELODY IN MY HEAD
> 
> anyway hello, it's Baby's First Fanfiction, so please be kind! I certainly wasn't kind to myself for endeavoring to write multi-chaptered AU but hey: if I knew how to do self-care, I wouldn't ship divorcees like kunten <3 
> 
> Thank you for reading this far, you legend!


	2. Ostinato

♚

The land that Kun Qian lorded over was massive.

Ten had spent the rest of the night meandering about the surrounding forest with his new ‘friends’ (and roommates for the next while, apparently). He felt giddy at the thought of Lord Qian stewing in his room, pulling at his hair with embarrassment and irritation, the appetizing heat of those emotions coming off of him in waves. 

The fact that the Lord’s own Circle had instantly taken to Ten only inflated his ego even more. They were babies, really; Sicheng was well past his first century, but the others hadn’t yet achieved even that. It was kind of refreshing.

The young Vampires peppered him with a volley of questions: about his powers, his history with Civitas, his mortal life before he was turned, his choice of shoes (courtesy of Yangyang, who had his priorities straight). Ten answered some questions wholly, others partially, and all of them with some level of deception. As adorable as these babies were, he owed them nothing — least of all the truth.

All he had to do for the next month was behave. Or, at least, misbehave in a way that Lord Qian couldn’t stay mad at him for. A special talent of Ten’s, really.

‘You have to tell us _something_ ,’ Yangyang insisted. ‘Did you piss off Lord Lee?’ 

Ten hummed. ‘You could say that.’

‘Did you fight? Did you hurt one of his people? Did you steal that Viscount’s Mark from him?’

Ten considered himself a master of schooling his features into indifference. But Yangyang, miraculously, managed to hit a lot of very vexing buttons without realising.

‘I see this view of my being a thief is catching on,’ Ten said. ‘I didn’t steal the Mark from him, no.’

‘Boring,’ Yangyang huffed. ‘So what is it then? Why doesn’t Taeyong’s gang like you? You can tell us.’

‘Yeah, we won’t judge,’ Kunhang added. ‘They don’t like us either, as you know.’

Ten sighed and waved his hand, hoping the topic would waft away on the night wind. ‘It’s just politics.’

‘Kun — er, Lord Qian’s gonna interrogate you about it,’ Dejun said. ‘Trust me.’

‘Let him try,’ Ten shrugged. ‘I don’t crack under pressure. Not that _that_ guy could ever pressure a rabbit, nevermind me.’

Yangyang and Dejun both puffed out a _pfffft!_

Kunhang flashed him a broad, sympathetic smile. ‘Buddy, it’s better not to underestimate him. He’s the Circle leader for a reason.’

Xuxi clapped a hand on Ten’s back, and he winced. He quickly turned it into a grimace-eyeroll combo, hoping they others wouldn’t notice. Xuxi had a big hand, and hit hard, and Ten wished he’d chosen _anywhere else_ to give him a friendly slap. 

‘Brother Kun is very, very nice,’ Xuxi said, smiling. ‘But really — don’t make him mad.’ 

Ten took the advice with a pinch of salt, and ignored the ache that pulsed through his back.

♚

They all returned before dawn, disappearing into various guest rooms. Ten made his way leisurely towards his own, taking a scenic detour. He could better appreciate the manor without Kun’s constant stream of _don’t touch this_ and _stay out of here_ and _I wish you wouldn’t skew the paintings as you walk by t hem, I’m serious, this is tort ure._

He finally passed by the double doors with the etched glass: the ballroom, apparently. The swirling patterns in the frosted panes obscured what lay in the room beyond, and Kun had made the mistake of forbidding Ten to go inside.

Ten was absolutely going to go inside.

He gently turned the brass knobs, getting a feel for them. They stuck part way through their rotation, and Ten tutted. Locked.

He looked up and down the wide corridor, checking for any of Kun’s rambunctious babies. The sky through the window was already turning into a wan blue colour, heralding sunrise.

After deciding the coast was clear, he gently tapped his fingers around the doorknob, getting a feel of the cool metal. He cast his will through his fingertips, closing his eyes as he did so: after a second, the knob began to vibrate with a gentle electric buzz. He followed the vibrations, the currents acting as an extension of his senses, until he could read the lock mechanism like braille.

A wayward blue spark zapped between the knobs, and Ten winced. He was out of practice. He reigned himself in, starting to push against the metallic inner parts — _just a rotation here,_ click _, pressure on the spring,_ click _, then a—_

The knob shook suddenly, and there was a yelp on the other side of the door.

Ten jumped back. _Oops._

The doors opened aggressively, with a brow-furrowing Kun now standing before Ten. He was shaking the sting from his hand roughly and glaring.

‘Static?’ Ten supplied innocently.

‘Storm season…’ Kun muttered. Then he seemed to remember himself. ‘Why are you lurking outside this door?’

Ten shrugged. ‘I missed you. Is that a piano?’

Kun stepped sideways to block Ten’s view of the interior. ‘It’s bedtime.’

‘Really? Could’ve _sworn_ it was a piano.’

Ten delighted in the roll of Kun’s eyes. The Vampire Lord stepped through the door, closing it behind him. He slipped a key into the lock and turned it while looking pointedly at Ten. 

Ten noticed that the sweater from before was gone — Kun’s hair was slightly mussed, like he’d been lying down or running his hands through them, and that his shirt was untucked. Opened by a few buttons, too. 

‘My, my…’ Ten said, looking him up and down. ‘What were you up to while we were gone?’

‘Meditating,’ Kun said flatly. He started walking toward the hall that housed the staircase to the bedrooms. ‘Good night, Ten. Do you remember where your room is or should I leave a trail of cookie crumbs for you to follow?’

‘Damn, did I miss the memo? We eat cookies now?’

‘God, you’re so—’ Kun inhaled, smiling with only his mouth, before stopping in his tracks. Ten tried to saunter on past him, but Kun side-stepped and blocked his way. They stood almost-chest-to-chest, much like when they first met earlier that morning.

‘On that note,’ Kun started. ‘There is another rule you need to follow while you’re here: no killing when you feed.’

Ten cocked his head. Interesting. So this is what the Civitas boys were talking about.

‘You want a Vampire to starve while he’s here?’ Ten asked, pouting.

‘Don’t be dramatic,’ Kun replied. ‘Drink just enough from one person to knock them out, then leave them somewhere safe to wake up. It’s not rocket science. And it’s mandatory while you’re taking Sanctury with Circle Visio. Got it?’

‘So is that why all you “Visions” operate at half-battery all the time? A shame.’

Kun stopped partway up the stairs, but didn’t turn to look at him.

‘Tolerate it for one month, stranger,’ he said, voice carrying easily. ‘I don’t make exceptions.’

Ten paused, running his tongue thoughtfully across his teeth. He could sense it now — something was radiating off the Lord and weaving into his voice; something solemn and commanding. Ten needed to be closer to properly determine what it was.

He stepped forward, following his gracious host up the stairs until he passed him.

Ten cast him a saccharine look over his shoulder. ‘Yes, _my Lord_. No exceptions.’ 

As Ten made his way to his room, he noticed that the paintings that he’d pushed askew were back in their rightful positions. He smiled to himself. For all his rules, Kun was still too accommodating a host, and Ten was going to have far too much fun with that.

♚

The next evening, the manor was empty. Kun curtly informed him that the other Circle members would be back in a day or two, after taking care of things at their respective homes.

Ten wandered the grounds restlessly, picking Lenten roses off of their bushes and twirling them in his fingers before tossing them away. He felt bone tired, too. Sleeping in strange beds in strange houses was nothing new, but things were a little different now. He couldn’t relax, even in the soft, floral-scented sheets of Kun’s guest room. He couldn’t lower his guard, even for a second — in fact, _especially_ not now. His journey here was...well, it was more eventful than he would have liked, and he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

_Ha_ , he thought, crushing pine needles under his foot. He literally wasn’t.

Well, if he couldn’t get sleep, then he needed to get nourishment. Soon.

Leaves crunched behind him, He turned to see Kun strolling down the path, gently placing a picked-off rose in his front jacket pocket.

It was kind of a relief, being able to hear Kun coming. If the Lord really wanted to sneak up on him, Ten would’ve had to work much harder to detect him. And Ten really, _really_ needed a break from all that.

‘You said you liked my rose garden,’ Kun said by way of greeting. ‘Care to tell me why you’re ripping it apart?’

‘Now _you’re_ the one being dramatic,’ Ten said. ‘I’m just trimming it.’

‘Sure,’ Kun replied drily. ‘May we talk?’

‘What, _again?_ ’ 

‘I have a lot of fun new questions for you,’ Kun said pleasantly. ‘You’re gonna love the ones I have about your shadowy past.’ 

Ten banished a burgeoning smile by working his jaw. So Lord Qian was capable of levity — miraculous.

He performed a theatrical huff, before brushing past Kun to walk back down the path. ‘If we must. But I’m not a trivia charity — I want to trade questions and answers.’ 

Kun followed, stepping into pace with him. The path was just wide enough for them to walk shoulder-to-shoulder. The taller man (but only slightly taller, mind you) wasted no time; he fired off his first question.

‘What’s your quarrel with Circle Civitas?’

Ten groaned internally. He couldn’t say the others didn’t warn him about an interrogation.

‘It’s just a bit of bad blood,’ Ten responded airily. ‘I’m a nomad with no ties, least of all to them, and they didn’t like that. Boo-hoo. And before you ask: no, they don’t know I’m here.’

Kun narrowed his eyes. ‘What about your Sire? Who are they?’

‘No-one you’ve heard of, I’m sure,’ Ten said. ‘I’m not from around here, as you may have noticed.’

‘Try me.’

Ten searched his inner archive of fake names and landed on something suitably vague. ‘Lord Li.’

Kun tensed beside him.

Ten laughed. ‘Li like “L–I”. Not the Lee from Civitas, if you were worried.’

‘I was,’ Kun admitted. ‘And you’re right — I’ve rather suspiciously never heard of a Lord Li.’

They reached the metal-framed glass doors of the Conservatory — probably Ten’s favourite place in the manor so far — and Kun opened the door for him. Ten noted the gentlemanly habit with amusement; even the Lord’s most insufferable guests got the star treatment from him.

Ten took the liberty of entering and immediately seating himself at the head of the dining table set up here. It was also glass, set upon legs of exquisite grey marble, and surrounded by magnificent plants of every kind — even ones that Ten couldn’t name. Long, leafy vines dripped from the walls like paint. Finally, the rich scent of the flowers...God, Ten could die in here. He’d noticed that almost every square inch of Kun’s manor smelled heavenly, and in so many different ways: different aromatic candles for every room, sheets and pillows that rippled with delicate scents when you moved in them, and even the Lord himself — whatever perfume he was wearing today was different from the one he wore yesterday. Perhaps tomorrow he’d treat Ten’s senses to something new. 

Strangely, Ten noted, there seemed to be another piano in here. It was covered in a huge sheet, strewn with wayward leaves and petals, but the shape of it was unmistakable. Just how many of these did the manor need?

Kun joined him at the table. He opened his mouth to speak but Ten lifted a hand.

‘I let you have two questions in a row,’ Ten said. ‘My turn to ask something. What’s _your_ deal with Circle Civitas?’

The Lord gave Ten a long, deliberating look. Ten felt it again, just for a split second — an aura that darkly shimmered with something authoritative and...ancient. It cut through his perfume like a volley of daggers. It felt familiar, eerily, but it was gone before Ten could put a finger on it. 

‘I used to be a part of them,’ Kun simply said. ‘And then I left. In Lord Lee Taeyong’s opinion, nobody just leaves — but here I am. We have an agreement not to mess around in each other’s territories, or harm each other unprovoked, and there have been no incidents in almost a hundred-and-twenty years.’

Ten raised an eyebrow. ‘We’re not so different, you and I…’

Kun’s eyeroll was accompanied by a tiny, tiny smile this time. ‘It’s one thing to be you, and have no ties to begin with. It’s another to be Kun Qian of the Circle Civitas, ordained to be there by my very own Sire, only to leave and start my own Circle. I made a lot of Vampires very mad.’

Ten grinned. ‘You are so generous with information. Random aside: what are the numbers on your credit card?’ 

Kun shot a hand out to give Ten a playful scolding smack on the arm. Then retracted quickly when he realised what he was doing. _Hm,_ Ten thought, _must be a habit of his with the babies._

‘My turn again,’ Kun said, clearing his throat. He sat with his elbows on the tabletop, lips pressed behind clasped fists. Thinking. Ten waited patiently. Finally, he spoke.

‘Do the Civitas have ghouls?’

Ten chewed the inside of his lip. _Ghouls._ Ten always found it to be a crude term. He thought back to his time at Taeyong’s sprawling manor, and definitely remembered seeing several feral-eyed men — hungry and enthralled by the Vampire Lord who turned them. After a few months of voracious feeding and guidance from their Lord, they’d be fully Sired, ready to roam the world as _bona fide_ Vampires. A disgusting process, in Ten’s not-so-humble opinion.

It was interesting that Kun should ask, but it also made sense — Kun’s Circle clearly did things very differently. They didn’t drain humans, even though that’s what Vampires _do_ , so why would they make ghouls? Ten was starting to think that Kun simply wasn’t the type to collect mortal lives like stamps.

‘They do,’ Ten said honestly. ‘Or at least they did. It’s been a while since I was...since I was there, so they could be Sired by now. I don’t know. My turn to ask a question again?’

Kun nodded distractedly.

‘Did you Sire the babies?’ 

‘The...who?’ Kun choked. ‘What babies?’

‘Yangyang, Sicheng, all of them. Are they yours?’

Kun leaned back, shaking his head. ‘“Babies,”’ he muttered wearily.

‘So?’ Ten urged. He leaned forward to rest his head on his arms, giving Kun a puppy-eyed look.

‘No, I’m not their Sire.’ The finality in Kun’s tone was unmistakable. He wasn’t going to elaborate this time.

Ten lifted up slightly, propping his arm up so he could rest his head in his hand. He gestured at Kun, encouraging another question.

Kun’s eyes seemed to rake all over Ten’s face, hands, arms, hair — everything. He was used to being closely observed, of course, so it didn’t phase him. But Kun’s gaze was surprisingly cold and calculating now; so unbecoming of those round, welcoming eyes.

Or were those round, welcoming eyes just unbecoming of the monster that he was?

Kun settled on a question. ‘What powers did you end up with, then?’

‘What makes you think I’m a special enough Vampire to have unique powers?’

‘Because you waltzed into my territory, while all of my Circle members were here, and immediately started making demands. Either you’re an absolute idiot, or you’re strong enough to hold your own in the big bad world. Am I being too nice by assuming it’s the latter?’ 

‘Why should I reveal all my secrets so soon?’ Ten said, pouting coquettishly. ‘You haven’t even bought me dinner yet.’

‘Fine, I’ll just pester you about it every single day for the next twenty-nine days.’

‘Fine,’ Ten agreed. ‘I love a good test of my willpower.’

Kun sighed, clearly done with the conversation, and started to get up. Ten grabbed his forearm to stop him, and smiled sweetly.

‘Last question,’ Ten said. ‘Where can a guy get some good food around here?’ 

‘In town.’

‘Duh,’ Ten droned. ‘Let’s be more specific. Know of any good parties tonight? I want to have fun, and also I’m starving.’ 

Kun gave him a warning look.

Ten groaned. ‘Starving for _no more than fifteen percent_ of a human’s delicious blood, of course. Not trying to kill anyone here.’ 

‘Well…’ Kun began hesitantly. ‘There’s a ball. Masquerade and everything.’

‘Ooh, how medieval!’

‘I know. The host is some rich man connected to the mayor, and he’s an eccentric. There’ll be lots of people there, if my judgement of these things is good. Which it is.’

‘Great,’ Ten said, hopping out of his seat. ‘I’ll be back before curfew, m’Lord.’ 

Kun placed a gentle hand on Ten’s arm, stopping him. ‘I’m going with you.’

Ten frowned.

‘I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, Ten,’ Kun said, punctuating it with a little shove. ‘And I could probably throw you pretty far. I’ll be your chaperone for the night.’

‘I hate that,’ Ten said flatly. ‘I would like to be enemies now.’

‘My Sanctuary, my rules,’ Kun chuckled before turning to walk off. 

Ten drummed his fingers on the glass table while watching him go.

‘Actually, I want to ask one more thing,’ Ten said.

Kun turned back, and gave him a cautious go-ahead with a nod.

‘Why _don’t_ you have ghouls, or Sired members? A Lord like you has the ability, right? Why don’t you ever make new Vampires?’

‘That’s three more things,’ Kun said. Ten looked at him, unamused.

Kun mussed his hair absently, answering anyway. ‘I just don’t want to.’

‘Cute, but if you Lords don’t make more, our numbers will dwindle.’

‘Mhmm,’

‘Then Vampirekind won’t survive, Kun.’ 

Kun gave him a curious look — like Ten was saying something obvious.

‘Why should it?’ he asked.

Ten’s mouth fell open in a little ‘o’.

The Vampire Lord — the one who acted nothing like any Lord that Ten had ever met — yawned and stretched. He made his way for the inner door again, but paused before disappearing into the house.

‘Feel free to go back to calling me by my honorific any time, by the way,’ he said. 

Huh. Ten hadn’t even realised. He plastered on a mischievous grin. ‘I don’t think I will, _Kun._ ’

‘Of course not,’ Kun sighed. He walked off into the adjoining hallway, voice now disembodied. ‘We leave in two hours. Mind the dress code: _Red and Velvet._ And don’t try to enter my ballroom.’

Ten smiled privately to himself, excited for the night ahead — bothersome supervision notwithstanding. The decadence, the energy, the sheer amount of _choice_ he was going to have at an extravagant event like this one..

Maybe he’d finally feel like himself again. 

It had been a few weeks since Ten the Stranger fed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A masquerade ball? For a Vampire AU? Groundbreaking.
> 
> k's and c's appreciated!


	3. Divisi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise in advance to Catholics.

♔

_‘Is this not better, sweetling? A family that is eternal? A family that cannot die, cannot leave you?’_

_Kun did not respond. He just watched wisps of blood curl away from his skin, washing off in the water. He felt a large, icy hand gently pet his head. Unsticking the hair from his clammy brow._

_‘You do not have to be afraid. I am here for you, and always will be. My Kun. My perfect Kun.’_

_He washed his forearms. He washed his face, his mouth. Red. So much of it._

_‘Are you afraid?’_

_Kun felt very cold. ‘No, my Lord.’_

_‘You know that I will protect you, don’t you? From all of our enemies. All.’_

_‘Yes, my Lord.’_

_‘We always protect our own, sweetling.’_

_‘Yes, my Lord.’_

_‘Don’t you feel stronger now?’_

_Kun didn’t know water could ever turn so red. ‘Yes.’_

♔

Kun turned the folded invitation over in his fingers, absently rolling it from index to pinky and back again. He worried his bottom lip with his teeth.

It all just seemed a bit too convenient.

Kun didn’t get specially invited to many events. He preferred it that way — it was easier just to be a mysterious homeowner in the woods that no-one knew anything about. Elusive millionaires weren’t exactly uncommon, but neither were cameras and stalkers anymore. Every decade it became harder to avoid having a public profile. 

But now, the esteemed Taemin Lee was hand-writing invitations to Kun, asking him to attend his massive soirée. They’d met maybe once or twice before, and he was friendly enough — Kun had expected someone...well, _bitchier_ as the head of a Fashion magazine empire. But Taemin was welcoming and sweet and a little odd, but only in the most appealing of ways.

Not someone that would particularly like Kun, that’s for sure. The two were very different, and not just because one was a two-hundred-year-old Vampire.

On top of all that, an evasive stranger shows up out of nowhere, bearing a Mark of the Viscount, despite being a nobody in Vampire Society, and Kun — idiot that he was! — decided to bring him with.

Kun lifted the pendant out from under his shirt, where it hung on a chain around his neck. He rolled it around in his palm. He’d seen Viscount’s Marks a few times before, and each one was unique. His own was destroyed not long after leaving Civitas — good riddance — and this one that he held right now reminded him of it. The embossed crest in the metal was faded and damaged, but clear enough to anyone who knew what they were looking for. Kun guessed that this was one of Viscount’s oldest Marks. The Viscount had made about a dozen of these, to be passed on to those in his closest circles and travel down the generations. 

So why would some nobody Lord called ‘Li’ own such a valuable thing? And why would he give it to Ten, a nomad who had precious little status to gain from owning one?

Kun returned to his theory that Ten had stolen it. It wouldn’t matter if he did, ultimately — the Sanctuary agreement would still stand. Possession was more important than ownership, by Vampire rules.

Kun felt a little sorry for Dejun. There definitely were rules — old ones, as old as civilisation, though unwritten. There were innate hierarchies and hidden courtesies that lived in your tainted, immortal blood rather than anywhere on paper. Sure, you could call that a ‘Vampire Constitution’. It didn’t exist to help Vampires navigate the finer details of their immortal existence, however, and it certainly didn’t exist to _protect_ anyone. 

No. The rules were transfused into a new Vampire’s system like poison, generation after generation, and groomed into the psyche by the siring Lord. They existed to remind you of your place — among other monsters, above humans, and beneath the Viscount.

_‘Without rules, the chaos would destroy us all. Don’t you agree, sweetling?’_

Kun put the pendant back around his neck, face souring at the memory of his Sire’s voice, as well as his “wisdom”. Kun personally found that Vampires think of new and creative ways to destroy each other regardless.

The timing was all wrong, too. An unexpected guest on the eve of an unexpected visit. Ten claimed he had no ties, no loyalties, and merely needed bed and board until he moved on from this area. He claimed he was just a regular Vampire whose independence rubbed other Vampires the wrong way, and that Kun’s lack of ‘beef’ with Ten was reason enough to offer up a Mark to him. 

It just sounded a little bit like bullshit. Not that nomadic Vampires didn’t exist, of course — Sicheng was one when they’d met, after all — but Kun was no fool. There was something more to Ten. Something important that he was leaving out.

Kun exhaled in frustration at his past self. Maybe a month of sanctuary was too long for a wildcard like Ten the Stranger. But, god damn him, the stranger was very persuasive, unspoken laws notwithstanding. Kun felt dismayed at his own leadership decisions sometimes.

He thought back a century-and-a-bit. Things were just a little bit easier under Taeyong’s leadership. And before that, they were _effortless_ under the Viscount. Kun was practically untouchable then — no-one bothered the Viscount and his personal Circle. No-one bothered the Viscount’s favourite, either: his ‘sweetling’. No-one, ever, unless they wanted their entrails splattered across the tiles of the throneroom. 

Things were easier, definitely. But not worth it.

Kun put the Mark back under his shirt and pocketed the invitation. He never intended to go to this ridiculous Masquerade in the first place, nevermind with a plus one. Now he’d probably have to put on a nice face for Taemin and three-hundred of his closest friends, all while keeping an eye on Ten.

Ten also seemed hungry. He acted vivacious, certainly, but overall he appeared to be conservative with his powers and energy. He preferred to stroll about listlessly in the garden or drape himself across Kun’s furniture — even things like tables or countertops. 

Lazy. Entitled. Completely enigmatic. Kun still had no idea what the young Vampire was capable of, if anything.

♔

Kun soon discovered the Ten was capable of wearing a velvet blazer with absolutely no shirt underneath.

‘You’ll be bounced for indecency,’ Kun said, exasperated. Ten’s crimson jacket, held closed with but a single hard-working button, framed a perfect diamond of bare chest and neck.

‘No, I won’t,’ Ten said breezily. ‘No-one bounces _me_ from anywhere.’

‘I would know,’ Kun muttered bitterly, turning to check his hair in a mirror.

‘And at least I’m wearing something more interesting than black-on-black.’

Kun clicked his tongue. ‘You must be new to the concept of taste.’

‘I’m immortal. I’m not new to anything. Are _you_ new to dress codes?’

Kun patted his brooch, inlaid with a fat and bright-red ruby. ‘I’m wearing red right here.’

‘It’s a cop-out,’ Ten said disapprovingly. ‘I’m embarassed to be seen with you.’

‘Then stay home and eat rats for dinner.’

‘Ew, your manor has rats?’

‘It’s a figure of—actually you know what? Yes, the manor has rats, and I hope they bite you on the ass.’

Something hard pelted Kun in the back of the head. He looked down, grimacing, to see a coin clattering on the floor.

Ten was already out of sight, leaving the echoes of his spiteful cackling behind.

Kun had an entire Circle of Vampires as his rivals; a bitter history filled with grudges and conflicts and irreconcilable ideological differences — and he still had never wanted to fight anyone as much as he wanted to fight Ten.

And it had barely been twenty-four hours.

♔

Kun later discovered one more thing: Ten had many names.

The security at the door skimmed over the invitation, eyes darting up to inspect Kun and then darting back down. ‘Mr Qian, welcome. Is this your plus one?’

Ten answered. ‘Yes, I’m his plus one. My name is Yongqin Li.’

Kun glanced over at Ten, who was smiling affably at the towering security guard. _Li Yongqin._ He felt a twinge of something uncomfortably familiar — nostalgia, perhaps? Yes, something like that. Nostalgia for the home he had before he became what he is now, when his family was still just his parents and grandparents and aunties and uncles and even the neighbours’ kids. It was bizarre to hear the tones of his mother tongue come from Ten’s mouth. _Li Yongqin. Huh._

‘Is that a fake name?’ Kun asked him when they were both inside. ‘Or was Yongqin your name when you were human?’

‘What do you think?’ Ten replied, fluttering his eyelashes coyly behind his white-and-red eye mask. ‘Does Yongqin suit me? Do you want to call me _Qin Qin_?’

‘Ah, I feel sickened for the first time in centuries. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Taemin Lee’s mansion was nothing like Kun’s. It was probably twice as big, and very _en vogue:_ the general design of it was sleek and modern and visibly expensive. The interior design had a beautiful but unusual aeshetic point of view, as if the designer were a chess grandmaster who briefly dipped into BDSM before dipping back out. Antique and contemporary blended rather seamlessly in room after room of tinted glass, leather couches, lush carpets, perfect geometry and black wood. 

When they were led to the ballroom, Kun gasped. 

It was massive — he felt as if he could land a plane in here. A vaulted ceiling lorded over the room with all the grandeur of the open sky, and the perimeter of the room was more window than wall. If they’d come in here during the day, the two Vampires would’ve been rendered half-blind and staggering from pain. Kun repressed a shudder, some old memories of past mistakes firing off a phantom sizzle in his skin.

Kun tried to look through the press of people already in here. It was hard to get a lay of the land when the place teemed with fancifully-dressed bodies: puffy skirts and puffier jackets and tall hats and feather boas and extravagant masks were like a shifting kaleidoscope in his vision. A large space was left in the middle of the ballroom (a dance floor, presumably) with tables set up on the edges. Each one was decorated lavishly with candelabras and flower arrangements, far too outrageous for Kun’s milder tastes, but it suited the host well. Around the ballroom there were doors leading to other parts of the mansion, some of them blocked off with elegant red rope barriers. The only thing in here that delighted Kun was the gaggle of musicians set up on the stage, almost a full orchestra. They were already playing some refined covers of contemporary songs — some light and breezy tunes to get the arriving guests into a celebratory mood. 

It was all very Hollywood, and Kun was already full of regrets.

Ten, however, seemed to be having the time of his life. Whenever Kun glanced over at him, a smile played at his lips. He watched the crowd with flaming eyes and bobbed on his feet, like he couldn’t wait to get moving. To mingle. To dance. To get away from the stuffy old Vampire Lord at his side.

A group of excited, chattering people flitted past them, all flowing fabric and puffy cravats. The scent of them — of everything, of _everyone_ — in this hot ballroom was suddenly overwhelming. Kun’s head fogged over for just a moment and licked his lips without realising.

‘Wow,’ Ten said next to him. ‘How long has it been since you last fed?’

Kun adjusted his collar to feel less stifled. ‘Yesterday.’

‘What?’ Ten exclaimed. ‘And you’re _this_ tired? _This_ hungry? Did you drink from an anemic?’

Before he could stop himself, Kun barked a laugh at that. He stopped abruptly and cleared his throat, not bothering to check Ten’s expression for any evidence of satisfaction.

‘I’m meant to drink from several people in one night,’ Kun explained. ‘Didn’t really have the time yesterday, though. Or the desire. I was distracted.’

‘Okaaaay,’ Ten drawled. ‘Then when was the last time you drank your fill?’

They had just gotten here and Ten was already skipping stones across Kun’s inner lake of composure. ‘This may shock you, but it’s literally none of your business.’ 

Ten whistled incredulously. ‘ _That_ long ago, huh? Just what kind of Vampire are you?’

Kun huffed. ‘What does it matter? I’m doing fine. Why should I be greedy?’

‘Unbelievable,’ Ten breathed. ‘Greedy is one thing — starving is another. If you ever get into a scrap with a Civitas boy, he’d knock your ass out cold.’

‘I don’t intend on getting into a scrap with Civitas,’ Kun snapped. He turned to glare at Ten. ‘Unless you know something I don’t?’

Ten crossed his arms. ‘I’m just saying. Vampires have fickle tempers and love to fight, and you look weak. Is that responsible, Lord Qian? Especially while you literally have a _rival circle?’_

Kun’s own Vampiric temper, normally coiled deep inside him like a tight spring, trapped in a box within a box within another box, threatened to unload on Ten. He stepped right up to him, getting close enough to count his eyelashes. ‘Is there really “bad blood” between you and Civitas, Ten? Or are you working for them?’

‘And why the fuck would I be working for them?’

‘You tell me!’ Kun snapped. ‘You won’t tell me a fu—’ Kun looked around before lowering his voice to a whisper — a _fucking thing_ about you, and you’ve been poking at this rivalry shit from the second you washed up on my doorstep like driftwood. With a Viscount’s Mark, no less! Pardon me if I start to get a little suspicious.’

Ten stared back at him with dramatically upraised brows — undaunted, but definitely surprised.

‘Chill,’ he said, pushing Kun back with a finger. ‘People are looking at us. And I’m not a double agent, thank you very much, though I would _crush_ it if I was. I’m very good at lying.’

‘That’s comforting,’ Kun muttered through gritted teeth.

‘See, now you’re just getting grumpy,’ Ten said. ‘Eat well tonight so you can be easier to live with.’

Kun winced at the word ‘eat’. 

‘I hope you haven’t forgotten—’

‘—the no-draining rule,’ Ten finished for him. ‘I get it. Unclench. And I’m serious, by the way — you look terrible. Like a ghoul in a suit. You need to feed.’

Another flock of guests streamed by, a group of tittering women with their hands clasped together. Their perfumes, heated up by sweat and flushed skin, swirled through the air. A sinkhole of hunger opened up inside Kun. God, it was getting pathetic at this point.

He grabbed a champagne glass off of a passing tray and drained it. Not that it would do much to his titanium metabolism, but there were some pavlovian reponses that he tried to retain from his humanity — namely, using alcohol to calm himself. Just the action of swifly pouring a glass into his waiting gullet made him feel like he was letting his guard down.

Ten then grabbed two more: one for himself and another for Kun. He had a scheming look in his eyes that belied his pleasant smile. 

‘Let’s make the night more interesting,’ Ten suggested, taking a sip from his glass. ‘How about a wager?’

‘I have never distrusted you more than I do right now,’ Kun said. ‘And that’s really saying a lot.’ 

‘Hear me out first, old timer —’ Kun shoved him but Ten continued unphased — ‘how about we pick a target. Whoever drinks from them first, wins.’

Kun scoffed. ‘That sounds way too easy.’ 

‘We’ll pick someone challenging,’ Ten said coolly. ‘That is, if you’re up to the task.’

Kun mulled this over. The way Ten was sipping his champagne, looking expectantly at him over the glass, was nothing but bad news.

‘All right,’ Kun said. ‘If I win, you show me what powers you have.’ 

‘And if I win, I want to go inside your ballroom.’ 

‘Really? Is that it? Why?

Ten shrugged. ‘It’s the only room I haven’t been in.’ 

Kun instinctively put a scolding hand on Ten’s shoulder. ‘The _only_ room? There are many more rooms I told you not to go into!’

Ten smirked, gently lifting Kun’s hand off of him by the pinky. ‘I’m disobedient, sorry. So, deal?’ 

‘You have to respect my rules, Ten! The whole Sanctuary arrangement falls apart otherwise!’

‘Oh, please. Sneaking into your wine cellar is hardly punishable by death, is it? If it is, I dare you to kill me over it. Right now.’ 

Kun groaned. ‘I’ll save that for when we get home. For now, the bet is on — you’re not going to win, and you’re not seeing that ballroom.’

Without looking at him, he reached his hand out for a handshake. Ten’s cool-skinned fingers slipped into his palm, and the deal was sealed.

They both spent the next few minutes silently observing. So few targets here seemed remotely challenging — just the typical collection of socialites, models, loudmouthed entrepreneurs, wannabes...easy pickings for both Kun and Ten, probably. Especially Ten, in fact; the man fit in here like a rose in a bouquet. 

‘Let’s just pick someone random,’ Kun said impatiently.

Ten shushed him sharply. He was still looking around, lips pursed pensively. His eyes slid from guest to guest, carefully evaluating each one as he went. He rolled a ring around one of his fingers. He cocked his head a few times, shook his head a few times. His face told a fascinating story as he considered, then rejected, many potential candidates. Kun had to admit that watching Ten do nothing was arguably more interesting than watching any of the guests do _anything._

Eventually, Ten’s gaze lingered on someone in particular, and his resulting smile struck fear into Kun’s slow-beating heart.

‘That one,’ he said gleefully, dangerously, and pointed.

Kun looked. 

A young woman, demurely dressed, was standing in a small group of people. She had a delicate mask that matched her gown, which was opaque where it mattered, and lacey where it was most boring for lace to be. She hugged a modest shawl around her like a shield. She seemed visibly uncomfortable here, eyes shifting about nervously and smiling tightly. She was very pretty in a quiet, unassuming way, though. Round brown eyes like a doe.

Kun’s eyes darted down to see a delicate gold chain around her neck.

With a crucifix.

Kun facepalmed. ‘You can’t be serious, Li Yongqin. Seducing a Catholic is, like...it’s...’

Ten giggled. ‘I know.’

‘She’ll _never_ give us the time of day!’

‘Not to _you_ , maybe.’ Ten cocked his head puckishly, shifting his weight to lean closer to Kun. ‘Do you wanna forfeit?’

‘Absolutely not.’ Kun said sternly. ‘She’ll be in love with me by the end of the night.’ 

Ten’s mouth quirked and his tongue darted out a split second — a habit to weed out a smile before it broke out across his face.

Then he clinked his glass against Kun’s. ‘Final condition, then. As proof, we take the necklace. No, don’t look at me like that — that’s how we’ll confirm that the other got to her first. Don’t you want to play fair?’

Kun swore under his breath. ‘Yeah, fine. _Fine._ ’

With the game decided upon, the two of them parted ways to enjoy the night. Ten disappeared into the crowd easily, and Kun finally sucked in a deep breath. Once again, he felt stupid for agreeing to some ridiculous wager — but here he was! He wanted to hit himself.

Nevertheless, the last thing Lord Qian was going to do was lose to some nomad Vampire several decades his junior. Maybe he didn’t get out much anymore, that was true — but he wasn’t just some “old man” who’d lost his touch. He was far from that.

Wanting to get this thing over with, he canvassed the ballroom again. They’d lost sight of the woman at some point in their bet-making, but her ivory dress should be easy enough to spot. He moved through the crowd, earning appraising stares from some people, and politely greeting some others who were overly friendly. As he navigated the press of bodies, Kun wondered briefly if this wager was even worth his time — he needed to feed tonight either way, whether it be on Madame Doe-Eyed Catholic or on some other guest. He hadn’t really noticed how lethargic he was until he was met with Ten’s unyeilding energy. The younger Vampire only seemed to grow more buzzed the longer he spent in this ballroom, and he hadn’t even fed yet.

_Ah, youth,_ Kun thought wistfully, before berating himself. His members’ teasing was getting to him.

The smell of sweat and perfume and leather and furs was stronger now. People had been dancing and drinking, and the room grew more enlivened with every passing minute. Kun toyed with the idea of quickly charming some outgoing young model (or ‘Influencer’ or whatever the hell people were these days), just to get his energy back.

That’s when — almost serendipitously — the crowd briefly parted to show him a distressing tableau: Ten, at the centre of attention, and glowing like a stage light.

It was different seeing him like this — among people, laughing and dancing, in his element. In any Vampire’s element, really: casting one’s charm effortlessly against the feeble defenses of mortals and watching their eyes change as they fall under the spell. But the air about Ten was practically tangible. It was dense with the spirited aura he emitted, and only Kun had the faculties to perceive it. He watched the eyes of Ten’s current company: they shone with fascination, then attraction, then adoration. Not even masks and fancy dress could hide it: they were helpless, they were always going to be, and they couldn’t be happier under Ten’s metaphorical boot.

Ten’s own eyes, Kun noticed, were never sharper than now — observant and clever, ink-black and mesmerising. This stranger with no Circle, pulling people around him into an easy orbit, his presence beautiful and captivating and _immense._

Even the light in this ballroom didn’t feel illuminating until it landed on Ten’s skin.

Kun was always pale, even before his blood started running cold in his veins. His late mother used to joke that she’d lose him in the snow, but find him instantly on a moonless night. He had the look of a Vampire long before he ever became one.

Ten, however...Ten looked like he stepped into the sun rays of golden hour one day, and the light simply clung to him after he stepped out. 

Even a half-life couldn’t dull him.

Kun’s curiosity grew exponentially — Ten’s magnetic power almost rivalled Lord Lee Taeyong’s, who regularly charmed entire rooms full of humans with just a look. Who could have sired somoene like this? Could he really be as young as Kun had assumed? What else was Ten capable of, if even the un-charmable Lord Qian could hardly tear his eyes away?

_For fuck’s sake,_ Kun thought despairingly, _I’m going to lose this bet._

♔

Kun tracked their target down. If he didn’t get this done with soon, Ten would eventually extricate himself from his new group of best friends and beat Kun to the punch.

She stood near the orchestra. The small group of people she was with seemed to be paying no attention to her. She fidgeted with her crucifix pendant and nursed a wine glass full of water. 

_Seriously,_ Kun thought, making his way towards her, _why is she even_ here?

Kun already felt disgruntled. The conversational gymnastics that he would have to pull in order to pique her interest were at an Olympic level. 

There was nothing necessarily supernatural about a religious person’s defenses against a Vampire, or any other creature of the night for that matter — a human was a human, and Vampiric charms could technically work on anyone.

Anyone with an open mind, that is. There was such a dense wall of conviction, of discipline, and of sheer unshakeable stubbornness in the psyche of a religious adherent — the pursuit was hardly worth the trouble. Kun’s sugary words only scandalised the virginal Christians; his eldritch aura alarmed the devout Catholics; and Muslims immediately saw through the dramatics like it was an open window. It wasn’t _impossible_ to get through any of their defenses, no — but Kun personally felt that if their faith was strong enough to inconvenience a whole Vampire, then they’d _earned_ the peace. 

Regardless, Ten had made sure this poor woman was ill-fated. 

Kun only needed the necklace to win — so he wouldn’t drink a lot. Maybe she can walk it off right away, convince her friends to leave a little early because she’s woozy, and then Kun wouldn’t have to feel weird about drinking from someone who may as well have a face tattoo of a psalm.

He waited for her to finish her water. Just as she started casting her eyes around for a tray to leave the glass on, Kun swooped in — he made to breeze past her, as if distracted and in a hurry, but made sure to _accidentally_ knock the glass out of her hand. She barely had time to gasp before he caught it mid-fall, then brought up to her. He gave her a look that Winwin had once dubbed ‘sexy-apologetic’. 

She let loose a string of flustered thanks, a flush rising to her face. 

‘I’m so sorry,’ Kun huffed through a shy laugh. ‘I’m such a clutz.’

The woman fanned her face, mirroring his shy smile. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say so. You caught it just like that…’

‘Ah, I was lucky this time. I just hope I didn’t spill—’

She picked up on the way he trailed off with uncertainty in his voice, and rushed to reassure him. ‘Please! No, please don’t worry, it was empty anyway.’

She’d turned away fully from her unaware companions by this point, and her shawl hung loosely about her arms. She was already more comfortable.

Kun allowed himself a moment of triumph. _Like following a script._

‘May I get you another, anyway?’ he asked. ‘To make up for it?’

‘Thank you, but not for now,’ she declined. Her hand shot up to toy with her crucifix pendant again. ‘I was only having water, so…’

‘Well aren’t you fortunate!’ Kun said, plucking another glass of water from a passing waiter’s tray. Her eyes widened in surprise — this ‘clumsy’ stranger had barely even looked to see the waiter coming. ‘Water is in high supply where people drink irresponsibly.’

He handed the glass to her, and she hid her shy smile behind her hand. ‘Thank you. I didn’t...I didn’t catch your name?’

They spent the next few minutes in the throes of small talk. Kun assumed his most devilishly charming persona to supplement the charm he was casting her way. It was slow to work on her, as expected — she was reserved with information, she looked away from him more often than not, and it was only after making the third or fourth joke that she offered him an open, easy laugh. He could only flirt in the most roundabout, chaste way, but she was slowly warming up to it. 

Too slowly.

Kun wanted to kick himself when he finally noticed it, several topics into their conversation. When she self-consciously brushed hair away from her face, his eyes snapped up to see the bad news: the engagement ring.

_Fuck you, Ten,_ Kun thought, feeling something close to hysteria, _When I get you, I swear to God—_

‘Sorry, but I thought I saw you come in with someone?’ his target suddenly said. ‘Was that your...well, your...um...’

Kun expertly crafted a smile. ‘Ah, yes. My associate.’

‘Oh.’

Fuck. Bad call. ‘Associate’ was way too vague. Kun despaired once more; if she was indeed one of _those_ Catholics then he had probably already scandalised her into oblivion just by showing up with another man.

‘Oh, brother Kun,’ a saccharine voice said. ‘I wish you wouldn’t gossip about me.’

Both Kun and the woman turned their heads to see the aforementioned associate, looking insufferably radiant. He wasn’t even wearing a mask anymore — so many guests had already shed the pretense after loosening up with a few drinks and dances.

Ten knocked the lady lightly on the shoulder with his own, and winked.

‘I thought I saw him boring you to tears, so I came right over to drag him away.’

She waved her hands, glancing nervously as Kun. ‘No, no, not at all...we were just...we were chatting...’ 

Kun gave Ten a withering look, but the other man only took it in his stride.

‘I’m Ten, by the way,’ he said, taking her hand. He bowed to kiss her knuckles. ‘Your fiancé was just telling me that this is your first time at one of Taemin’s parties?’

Relief illuminated her eyes. Kun was simultaneously outraged and awestruck — the oldest trick in the bloody book. All Ten had to do was wait for Kun to approach first, for him to chip away at her guard, before Ten swooped in like a white knight with only the purest of intentions. The effect it had on her was palpable — her eyes kept darting to his mouth, his smile, which opened like the gates of Heaven.

Kun could only watch helplessly as Ten took their target gently by the elbow, offering to help her track down her wayward husband-to-be, and walked off with her like two giggling co-conspirators. Ten took a moment to look back at Kun with a teasing, calculated gaze. 

‘You should eat something, friend!’ Ten advised cheerily. ‘You’re looking a little pale!’ 

Kun waited for them to get absorbed by the crowd before tearing his mask off and discarding it to the side, indifferent to where it ended up. He knew he was being petulant, and a spoilsport, but Ten was _unbelievable._

He stormed out of the crowd and towards a sparsely-populated corner of the ballroom, seething. Ten’s cheshire smile and matching eyes replayed in his head, which only annoyed him more — the mental image swatted at his temper like a cat at a toy. He needed a moment to decompress before foisting his agitated self onto any other guests. An angry Vampire was unpleasant, to say the least, and tonight Kun lacked the energy to keep his own aura in check. He’d rather go hungry for a little bit longer than to strike primal terror into someone with his “harsh vibes”, as Yangyang would put it.

As Kun thought about it more (while leaning against a wall, sullen), he felt rather surprised at himself. He _shouldn’t_ be this agitated. It was only a silly game, after all. 

But Ten...for God’s sake, _Ten._ The man made his blood go from below-zero to boiling point with eye contact alone, and it just did not make any sense. The babies—er, the Visio members were infinitely more vexing on any given day, but Kun rarely lost his patience like this.

Kun people-watched for a long while. It was all he could bring himself to do, despite how his body ached to feed. Lethargy, he could ignore. Ten skittering off behind a red-rope barricade, an engaged woman giggling in his arms — that was harder to ignore.

The Vampire Lord thought back to his days as a human, and was suddenly pained by a very specific longing.

Alcohol.

He really missed alcohol that _worked_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had NO business taking this long to write, so thank you for your patience! The Nectar stage today gave me that last burst of energy I needed to finish this bad boy.
> 
> Speaking of the Nectar stage....it made me especially excited to post Chapter 4, so I hope I can get that out soon! 
> 
> k's and c's appreciated!


	4. Unisono

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels very short but I hope you have fun! Happy 2021 and thank you for still reading this little indulgence of mine.

♚

The noise of the crowded ballroom dulled as Ten pulled the door shut behind them. They’d ended up in some kind of storage room, with some stacked tables and chairs. Crates of various sizes were piled high along the walls, and it was dark. Ten flicked a switch, awakening a single weakly-shining light bulb above their heads. It was not too weak, however, to illuminate the dozens of paintings and sculptures that had been left to gather dust in here.

The woman giggled nervously next to him. ‘Gosh, I feel like...I feel like some kind of rebellious teenager…’

Ten put an arm around her shoulder. ‘I told you we’d find something interesting. Isn’t it a shame Mr Lee just hides all this stuff in the storage room?’

‘It should be out there for everyone to see,’ the woman agreed, evidently a little bit heartbroken by the sight. Ten praised himself internally for gauging her interests well — of course someone like her would enjoy boring still-life art. This room was practically the Louvre of dull, dated things. 

Unlocking the room was child’s play. It was nowhere near as complex as the lock back at Kun’s manor, and his giddy companion barely noticed as he sent clicks through the mechanism with just one voltaic swipe of his fingers. 

It was very proactive of Ten, too, to sweet-talk a security guard into telling him what was behind every door around the ballroom before he started mingling with any guests. It’s good to be prepared when you’re on the hunt.

Or being hunted, of course. Depends on your perspective.

The woman walked slowly around the storeroom, lifting sheets and gazing reverently at the discarded art. Ten tried very hard not to judge her for her tastes, but...hyperrealistic oil-on-canvas of some nectarines? A bronze bust of some guy? No wonder Taemin put all this crap away. 

It hardly mattered, though; her heart was singing all the same. It was easier to sense her emotions now, away from the sensory kaleidoscope that was the main ballroom. There was delight layered over nervousness, and whenever she looked shyly over at Ten, there was reluctant attraction. She probably seemed like a closed book to Kun’s limited senses, but to Ten, she was clearer than the billboards in Times Square.

He pitied Kun, truthfully. The Vampire Lord must have thought that his power and status gave him the advantage in this little competition — that a mid-tier nomad like Ten could never seduce and drink from someone that Lord Qian couldn’t.

But of course he could. He picked this sweet, devout young woman based on that very fact. He had deliberately placed Kun on the back foot from the very start. Ten inwardly basked in his own prowess for a moment. _Poor Lord Qian._ They were not in the same league.

Hell, they weren’t even playing the same _sport._

‘Oh!’ she gasped. She pointed to a painting propped on the floor. ‘ _Fox Hunt_ by de Vos! Do you think this is the real thing?’

Ten laughed. ‘Doubt it.’

While she marveled, getting a closer look, Ten stepped over to rest his chin on her shoulder. She tensed for a second — but she’d already let her guard down with him for too long. The rush of thrill that went through her was terribly obvious.

He placed his hands on either side of her waist. Another rush. He turned her around, so they were chest to chest. At this point she’d abandoned the habit of touching her crucifix — the lapels of Ten’s blazer were much preferred now.

She was painting such an appetizing picture for him, and she had no way of realising. Nerves, attraction, guilt — unique and exquisite. Ten couldn’t wait anymore.

He cupped her jaw with his hand, eliciting a surprised parting of her lips. Those innocent eyes of hers didn’t look so innocent anymore. Her curious hand reached up to rest on his chest, right where the skin was bare.

_Got you,_ Ten thought, and he leaned in.

It wasn’t quite a kiss — it all happened in the liminal space between their lips. With his mouth just barely against hers, Ten inhaled.

It poured from her so effortlessly then: the invisible aether that only Ten could drink. Her essence. All the feelings he’d worked so hard to build within her: fascination, trepidation, desire, shame...Ten feasted on all of it, and more. 

He walked the fingers of his free hand ever-so-gently down to her hip. It wasn’t much, but it was forbidden ecstasy for a betrothed woman; a woman doing things she shouldn’t be with _someone_ she shouldn’t be. Ten drank that hot spike of emotion too. He couldn’t stop himself: he smiled against her mouth.

The effect this had on him was immediate. He felt power — true, real power — blooming in his cells again. He started to feel awake and fed, _finally_ , after almost losing everything— 

The girl whimpered, which snapped Ten away from his indulgent thoughts. He stopped, pulling away from her, and she all but slumped into his arms. He stroked her hair consolingly.

He had probably taken her right to her limit.

She rubbed her head and started muttering something.

‘Hm?’ Ten hummed softly. ‘Everything okay, love?’

‘I…’ she began, voice raspy. ‘Who do I...wait, no. Wh–what...day is it?’

Ten grimaced. He definitely took her to the limit, alright.

Ten took her face in his hands and looked into her glassy eyes. ‘It’s the seventh of November, you’re at Lee Taemin’s masquerade with your lovely fiancé, and your name is Isabelle. You should get back to the party, don’t you think?’

Some lucidity slowly crept back into her. ‘Yes. Yes, I should. Thank you. Is it alright if I...if I do the...um, is it alright if I—’ 

‘Sit down for a bit?’ supplied Ten.

‘Yes. Yes. Thank you.’

_Yikes._

He helped her sit down on a low crate. Her legs were wobbly, and she muttered the odd bit of gibberish, but she hadn’t lost her mind or anything. 

Ten froze. Watched her for a few seconds. 

_Okay, yeah, she’s fine. She’s fine._

Ten left her to slump forward with her head in her hands. She’d be a little confused and numb for a few minutes, and that’s okay. He hated to think he’d overdid it, but he felt out of practice with this, too. He’d seen worse, though. 

He’d _done_ worse, rather. But that was in the past — he knew the limits well now, even if his powers were a little bit shaky at present.

While she groaned quietly to herself, Ten unclasped her necklace and pocketed it. Mission accomplished; the only thing left would be to dangle his victory in front of Kun’s face. He tried to picture Kun completing this little mission. All the trouble he’d have to go to: breaking down her psychological defenses, charming her with his dark and commanding eyes, biting into her flesh, cleaning the blood from his mouth and her skin.... _et cetera, et cetera_.

It was just so primitive _._

He slipped out of the room, then stopped to fix a wayward lock of hair in a passing reflection — he didn’t think he could look any better, but he did. The rejuvenation he felt was evident in everything: the brightness of his eyes, the shine of his hair, and even the summertime glow of his skin. The pain that tended to lance across his back was nonexistent now. _For_ now, rather.

Ten really missed feeling like this. Sated. Strong. Closer to how it was before.

Maybe now he could spare some time to _really_ enjoy the party.

♚

It was electrifying. Now that Ten had fed, he could puppeteer his own powers with greater ease — no unwanted attention, _all_ of the desired attention, and a reservoir of energy that felt bottomless. He laughed, danced, flirted, lied through his perfect teeth — he even convinced some poor fool to give him his wristwatch for free. Rolex, even.

If there was one thing old Lord Qian had going for him, is that he knew where to find a goddamned party. 

Ten suddenly remembered that he was supposed to gloat about his victory to said Lord.

He pulled himself out of his own revelry for a moment and artfully slipped away from the social epicentre. He honed his senses down, blocking out distraction and trying to pinpoint a certain sour-faced Kun.

_He should be around here somewhere…_

Ten’s eyes landed on someone, and his heart all but stopped. 

There was a familiar golden-brown head of hair and eyes that were equal parts kind and cunning. A young man who looked barely out of his teens but carried himself with decades worth of charisma. He was chatting amicably with some guests, swirling a glass of champagne. Ten darted behind a pillar.

_Civitas. Wonderful._

The gloating would have to wait. Once Ten found Kun again, he needed to clear something up.

It took a few extra minutes of circling around the room. Ten was careful not to draw attention (which is hard, looking the way he looked), especially not from any other Vampires that might be here.

Kun was standing in a corner, arms crossed and clutching an empty wine glass. Ten made the educated guess that he was sulking.

He made a beeline for him.

In the air, a slow, soulful wind instrument started up, followed by strings being plucked in a familiar rhythm: _one_ -two-three, _one_ -two-three. The dance floor started to fill up with couples, excited to toy with the fantasy of a ‘real waltz’ at a ‘real Masquerade’. Though the orchestra was loud and clear, the din in the room continued to rise with chatter and laughter.

When Ten reached him, Kun was ready with a caustic comment. ‘I see you’re already _done_ with Miss—’

Ten interrupted by circling his hand around Kun’s wrist, yanking him away from the wall. He pressed a finger to the Vampire's lips urgently, stopping his yelp of protest.

‘We have a tiny problem,’ Ten said, grabbing an abandoned mask from a nearby table. He shoved it onto his face before reaching for a second one and handing it to Kun. ‘Put this on and let’s dance.’

Curses and questions sprung from Kun like a stream, even while he slipped the mask on. Ten ignored him in favour of dragging him to the dance floor. Once there, he arranged him into a hold for a Waltz. Kun huffed impatiently, but nevertheless fell into step. They started moving around the other dancers, blending in. 

Kun was at least following the dance without any trouble.

‘I’m shocked that you know the steps,’ Ten teased. ‘Was expecting you to be crushing my toes.’

‘It’s just the Viennese,’ Kun muttered. ‘Actually, I’m surprised _you_ know them. This doesn’t seem like your taste.’

‘With me, it’s safer not to assume anything.’

Kun continued to whine. ‘And why the hell am I the follower? I’m the taller man, I should be leading.’

‘Don’t be such a fossil,’ Ten groaned. ‘It’s the twenty-first Century, Lord Qian. Anyone can lead.’

‘This is hell on my spine, Ten!’

Ten couldn’t help but giggle. Kun was grumbling like this, and yet didn’t halt his dancing — he mirrored Ten’s steps easily, twisting his body and leaning back into the correct position with impressive form. Even the hand on Ten’s upper arm had a charmingly upraised pinky finger.

They moved as one, Ten leading them in a perfect path around the floor. The shroud of music and chatter allowed them to speak privately.

‘One of the Civitas boys is here,’ Ten said almost close-mouthed. ‘Donghyuck.’ 

‘Don’t know him,’ Kun replied, watching the crowd as they spun past. ‘Must be new. This is neutral territory though, he’s allowed to be here. And so am I.’

‘I’m aware. But—’ Ten stopped talking to cast his eyes around once more. Checking for guests standing or dancing too close by. ‘But remind me: while I’m under your Sanctuary, the rules of your treaty apply to me, right? _All_ of them?’

‘Of course they do,’ said Kun. He broke his perfect form to look at Ten. He was annoyed. ‘Did you seriously invoke the Unspoken Law of Sanctuary without properly understanding the terms?’

‘I understood enough!’ Ten snapped. ‘Besides, I think I remember you grabbing it out of my hand without asking any questions, so don’t act like you’re better than me.’

‘You tricked me!’

Ten smiled, looking away. ‘I know.’

The tempo of the music increased, as did the drama. More and more instruments joined the fray, including a tittering drum and crashing cymbals. 

The hand that Ten held in his own fidgeted out of his grasp. He snapped his head to Kun, who wore a determined expression. ‘Let me lead.’

‘Don’t see why I should,’ Ten parried.

‘Because I can tell you like being the centre of attention.’

‘But I _also_ like being in charge.’

‘I do not care.’

With that, Kun forcibly adjusted their arm positions.

Ten gave him a dubious look, but artfully adjusted his steps to accommodate the role reversal. Sure, why not give Kun something to prove? It might at least be funny.

Their transition was actually rather painless. The Vampire Lord was indeed very lordly now, shoulders straight and flexed while he led Ten through the dance. He was decisive, but not domineering, and it was clear that he’d danced the Viennese Waltz many times before. Very many. It felt flawless — almost professional.

Kun’s palm pressed firmly into Ten’s shoulder blade. Ten took the subtle cue and followed him into a series of rapid turns on the spot. There wasn’t a toe out of place from Kun, nor the slightest drop in momentum as they completed the move and bobbed back into the natural _one-_ two-three. 

From somewhere in the crowd, a few claps and whoops rang out. 

Ten perked up at the sound. _Credit where credit is due, Lord Qian…_

‘Don’t get dizzy now,’ Ten said coolly.

‘Strange,’ Kun replied. Ten could hear a smile in his voice. ‘I was about to advise the same thing. Ready?’

Ten didn’t have time to ask what to be ready for before he felt a firm, assertive push from Kun’s hands. He instinctively complied: turning and stretching out of Kun’s grasp for a spin. Ten went the extra mile, flexing his arms, back and legs to create perfect fluid lines. He held the pose for just a beat longer, letting the crowd drink in the view. He drank them back: a cocktail of awed faces and rapt attention.

Just as Ten was drawing back in, Kun tugged him — hard. He spun right back into position, this time flush against Kun’s body. Ten’s mouth fell open in surprise, but Kun wasn’t even looking at him. His eyes were up and level, posture perfect.

‘Show-off,’ the leader said, head angled away. Jawline leading like a compass.

‘Is that an observation or a command?’

Kun gave him one look from the corner of his eye but said nothing.

Ten didn’t need further encouragement. 

The music swelled. Horns and frantic strings folded into the already fast-paced piece. Ten’s blood coursed with adrenaline, and their surroundings were nothing more than a blur. Kun was right there with him.

They were gliding across the floor, arms strong and extended. Right against him like this, reading Kun’s body was effortless. He relied on the flexion and pressure of Kun’s thigh slotted beside his own, and the firm press of fingertips on his back. The tiniest movements told Ten exactly where to go, when to turn, how to bend and sway. For both of them, their muscles were working overtime to look like they weren’t working at all. Ten knew it looked bewitchingly perfect from the outside — he knew, because that was how Ten did everything. He was a living illusion, slipping in and out of people’s fantasies at his leisure, while ferocity simmered just underneath the surface of his skin. He hadn’t expected a starved Vampire to keep pace at all. 

It suited Kun though: the texture of orchestral music and the lively elegance of the Waltz. Ten thought about the pianos in the manor. 

‘Say,’ Kun began, still looking away. ‘You’re not afraid of heights are you?’

‘Depends,’ replied Ten. ‘Will you drop me?’

‘That’s a surprise.’

‘You wouldn’t dare. How much do you bench, though?’

‘I don’t,’ answered Kun. ‘Which should be enough.’

‘You calling me little?’

‘I think _petite_ is the polite term.’

Ten laughed. ‘Fuck you.’

With a cue from Kun, Ten spun in place in front of him. When Kun caught him again, he gently pushed him into a shallow dip. Bending backwards, Ten lifted his leg, straight and flexible — then he was drawn up with Kun’s arm around his waist, sturdy and supportive. Ten took the cue as naturally as breathing: he hopped up and allowed his partner to lift him. Kun spun him around in his arms in one fluid movement before setting him down and resuming the glide across the floor. 

The impassioned ‘ _ooh_ ’ from the crowd jolted through Ten like a livewire.

The song reached its final crescendo. A colossal wave of strings and drums and powerful chords came crashing down from a magnificent crest. A violin sang out its last exultant bar, high and intense. Just in time for the final note, Kun slid an arm under Ten’s back, another hand around his nape, and Ten let himself be dropped into it with a flourish of his arm—

—Kun dipped him, deeply — low enough for Ten’s extended fingertips to brush the floor.

And a hush fell over the room. Every single pair of eyes fixed on them.

Ten looked up into Kun’s face, who was staring right back into his. Their chests were heaving, and even the Vampire Lord’s breath had become warm. 

After a drawn-out second, applause exploded in the room. Still suspended in the dip, Ten looked around — the audience was ecstatic, eyes alight with rapture and enchantment. Their adoration buzzed in the air, making Ten’s skin tingle. His heart thudded within his ribcage, so quick it was almost painful, and he smiled.

He smiled like he meant it, because he did.

He looked back to Kun, who’s gaze also snapped back at the same time. The cheers were still a deafening din in both their ears.

‘We overdid it,’ Kun said, panting.

‘Yeah,’ Ten said, almost dizzy with thrill. ‘My fault, I know.’

The corners of Kun’s mouth quirked up. ‘Don’t you dare take all the credit.’

He lifted Ten up into standing position, and the two of them bowed hastily before pushing back into the crowd. Hands caressed them as they walked through, the partygoers unable to stop themselves.

Ten knew they probably should’ve held back. As he watched Kun’s broad shoulders navigating the press of bodies in front of them, he figured the Vampire Lord thought the same. He felt bad for him, in a way — he tried so hard to stay low-key, shying away from attention. But Ten _needed_ it, survived on it, and he could already feel his muscles thrumming with even more power. 

The Vampire Lord was bound to complain about it later. Ten made a mental note to remind Kun that he had led him across that dance floor all the same, only stopping when the orchestra went silent. 

With Kun focused on carving a path out of there, Ten took the time to smile and wave politely — all while transmuting his aura into something less _inviting._ People were getting too touchy. It only took a few seconds before the crowd around them started directing their attention elsewhere, returning to their own friends and lovers, and leaving the impromptu performers well alone. 

It was laughably easy now. Only a few seconds, with only the barest bit of concentration from him — and the emotions of everyone around him was like putty in his hands. 

_Oh, Isabelle,_ Ten thought. _Thank you for your service._

If Ten could stoop low enough to thank Kun for bringing him here, he would have.

♚

_It’s a strange thing to be born after already having lived. It’s strange to go to sleep mortal, and wake up deathless — and to remain that way no matter how many times you blinked thereafter._

_It was strange, but after a while it made sense. A second chance at life — however bizarre that ‘life’ would turn out to be — was something to be treasured. Not every creature on this earth gets to experience such a thing. Not every creature gets to move up on the divine ladder as it rises up through the world, crossing the realms of natural and supernatural on its way to the Heavens._

_When Ten opened his eyes as something new, he saw it as a blessing._

_Except for when it wasn’t._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter they dance the Argentine Tango completely naked (haha jk...unless...?)
> 
> [wtf_is_the_Viennese.mov](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-VuFaJV0SGg&ab_channel=EuroDanceFestivalFans)
> 
> [wtf_kinda_music_were_they_dancing_to.mov ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M57Fi19vcSI&ab_channel=Andr%C3%A9Rieu)


	5. Sotto Voce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are warnings, please read before continuing!
> 
> CWs/TWs: Intrusive thoughts, mild self-harm, harm to animals

♔

They finally reached the edges of the room again, out of the oppressive crowd. Kun blinked several times. The high of performing lingered and he couldn’t seem to shake it off. It’s as if he were still there, still embracing Ten, whirling across the dance floor under the hot lights and sweeping orchestral music. 

Dizzy. Kun was dizzy.

Ten’s lilting voice was somewhere at the edge of his senses. He looked down, and Ten’s hand was curled around his bicep while he cheerfully waved off some adoring new fans. He let Ten tug him through a door into a less crowded hallway, then a bit further, into an empty one where they could rip off their masks in peace.

It wasn’t any better out here. It was hot, the air was heavy, and Ten was talking, talking, talking, without making any sense.

‘—and lay low for a while...hey, Kun? Lord Qian?’ 

Kun shook his head roughly. He drew from some inner resource, God knows what it was, to pull himself together. He shouldn’t be feeling like this – physically exhausted but almost half-mad with overstimulation. And he shouldn’t be showing it to Ten, either. He forced himself to resurface.

‘Sorry, I’m just…just...’ Kun’s thoughts were a riptide that pulled words under and away. He tried again. ‘I think I’m hungrier than I thought, and now all eyes are on us, and that’s _way_ too much attention—’

‘Relax,’ Ten ordered. ‘The crowd was just a little excitable. They’re not charmed, not for real, so if we stay out of sight for a few minutes, we can go back to mingling again. We just gave them a little bit of entertainment.’ Ten paused to give Kun a disapproving look-over. ‘And did you really not feed while I was busy?’

Kun glossed over the last part. ‘What about...what about the Civitas boy? There’s no way he wasn’t watching, too.’ 

Ten hummed. ‘He won’t try anything here, right? In public?’

‘Probably not,’ Kun said. His own voice sounded far away from him.

‘That’s enough for me. I’m not gonna let some baby ruin my mood. Also, are you sure you’re okay?’

Kun looked at him. Ten’s eyes were shining, almost _sparkling_ , and his skin looked warm. Invigorated. The dizzy feeling spilled over Kun once more, sudden and disorienting — he was starved. The feed from the previous night wasn’t enough, not after so many weeks. It was hard to look at Ten while he was freshly fed and _glowing_ with it. Kun prayed that the woman Ten drank from was indeed still alive. He didn’t have it in him to ask about it now.

In fact, right this moment, he just needed Ten to be _gone._

‘I’m fine,’ Kun managed. ‘Just annoyed that I lost.’

Ten grinned impishly and pulled a necklace out of his pocket. Isabelle’s crucifix. Ten let it swing in front of Kun’s bitter gaze.

‘That’s right,’ Ten purred. ‘Looks like I’m gonna see that little ballroom of yours after all.’ He turned around in place, like a dancer, and made for the ballroom. ‘I’m gonna go observe Donghyuck for a while. If he’s here to spy on me I’m gonna be really annoyed. And Kun, you better drink from someone before you fall over. _Jiā yóu!_ ’

Ten practically skipped out down the hallway. He sent a cheeky parting wave to Kun, who couldn’t even muster up the energy to roll his eyes.

As soon as Ten was out of sight, Kun lurched towards a door. He fell against it while twisting the knob open — mercifully unlocked. It was some kind of small office, but Kun could barely register its interior before being hit by another wave of vertigo. He slammed the door shut once he was inside and leaned against it, forehead on his arms.

The half-remembered faces of the party guests swam in front of his eyes. So many of them entranced by him, wanting to get closer to him, as close as possible, as soon as possible. He vividly recalled how that desire smelled on them, and thought of how it would taste in their blood. He shuddered. 

An old, familiar feeling cast over him like a fog, opaque and suffocating — thirst. Primal, angry thirst. It ravaged him while he stood hunched against the door, barely able to move. 

And he was tired. So, so, so _tired_. 

Right. Tired. Of course. That’s all he would need: just one person he could drink from. Any one would do. Or two. Or three. Or—

_Or I could slaughter them all, drink and drink until not a drop is left for anyone—_

He gasped and clapped a hand over his mouth. A bone-deep nausea roiled inside him, chasing the flash of bloodlust.

This could not be happening. Not now, not again, not here. 

_—they’re prey, they’re all just prey, rabbits that can’t outrun me—_

The pendant against his chest burned hot, scalding. He shakily put a hand against a desk beside him, and slumped down. He heard a rough, scratchy _squeak_ — when he looked up, he’d carved four ugly grooves into the wood with his nails. His claws. Which had grown out to their killing length without him realising.

_—I could just drink my fill ten times over, who’s going to stop me? Who’s capable? I could drink and drink—_

Kun shoved a hand under his jacket. He pressed his clawed fingernails against his ribs until a sharp sting shot through his sides. He gasped into it, chasing the clarity of pain.

_—and drink, I want to drink, to feed, to start and never stop—_

He dragged himself into a standing position. Bent over the newly-damaged desk. Every ounce of strength he had. But. The haze was lifting. Lifting. Slowly.

He looked up. Into the glass of a cabinet in front of him. His eyes met his own reflection. His image was overlaid on top of books and liquor decanters and odds and ends. His eyes were red, so red, _scarlet and angry,_ his mouth open in a heavy pant, his teeth elongated, _sharp and deadly and begging to be used,_ and he would’ve thrown up if he could.

— _they’re just in the other room, sweetling, go get them, go feed—_

He pressed his claws into himself again. Scraping hard until the fabric tore. He hissed, trying to hear it in his own pounding ears. A reminder. He felt pain. He could be hurt. He could be killed. 

Not a monster. A person. A person, a person, _a person, a person, a person—_

He let out several shuddering breaths, fingers gripping against the desktop. Waited for his skin, his blood, his thoughts to cool. More breaths went by. More heartbeats – they slowed and slowed until he could exhale again without shaking.

A clock ticked down somewhere. It felt good to finally hear it.

Lord Qian straightened up. He adjusted the collar of his shirt, fixed his hair.. He checked himself in the glass cabinet. Brown eyes. Blunt teeth. 

When he stepped out into the hallway again, he could hear the dim sounds of revelry coming from the ballroom. He dreaded returning to the tight press of warm bodies, and he dreaded pulling someone away to a quiet corner, and he dreaded what he’d think to do once his lips met their skin.

He could go hungry one more night — just until he felt better. More like himself. For now, it was time to find Ten, and leave. 

Kun was rounding the corner towards the ballroom doors when a voice addressed him.

‘Lord Qian! Wait for me a sec, would you?’

He turned to the source, who had certainly not been there a second ago. A young-looking man in a stark white suit, twirling champagne in a glass. He offered Kun a greeting smile — proudly presenting two elongated fangs.

It made it easy to guess who he was.

‘You’re Donghyuck,’ said Kun.

The other Vampire cocked his head curiously. ‘My reputation precedes me.’

His voice was high and feather-light. Boyish. Kun imagined he often used that pleasing lightness to disarm people.

‘Can I help you?’ Kun asked coldly. 

‘I just wanted to meet you,’ replied Donghyuck. ‘You’re the famous Lord Qian, after all. I gotta be honest though — I thought costume parties were beneath you. It’s crazy that you’re right here in front of me, after all the things I’ve heard!’

The way the other Vampire looked at him…his eyes glinted like the metal of a bear trap about to be sprung. Kun shoved his hands in his pockets and exhaled. He was too tired for this. 

‘You’re not being a very good spy,’ he said. 

‘Now who said I was here to spy on you?’ Donghyuck asked. ‘Maybe I’m just a huge fan. Do you do autographs?’

Kun moved to turn around. ‘Enjoy the party, kid.’ 

‘Johnny says hi.’

Kun paused. 

‘Ah-ha!’ Donghyuck exclaimed, clapping his hands together in triumph. ‘He told me you’d like that one. He was hoping you hadn’t forgotten about him. It’s a shame he isn’t here to see you himself — as well as the new company you’re keeping. Ten, of all people, huh? How’s that going for you?’

‘Why do you care?’

Donghyuck shrugged. ‘It’s just that you’re a weirdo multi-millionaire that lives in the woods and you have a Circle full of vegetarian orphans. You’re kind of a nobody now, you know? Seems a little weird that Ten would come to you instead of...’ He trailed off before presenting his palms in a placating gesture. ‘Ah, no offence, though.’

‘I’m a little offended,’ Kun admitted.

‘My bad. Wait, do you know the term “my bad”? I’m never sure how far in the past you still live.’

‘Donghyuck,’ Kun said, smiling in the most hostile way he could. ‘You’re a speck in my timeline of existence. You don’t know a damned thing about my past, regardless of what your Circle members have told you. Now, do you want to get to the point?’

'The point? Ah, well...honestly, I just wanted to see you. I wasn't even planning on speaking to you at all. I thought it important to get a beat on the infamous Lord Kun Qian. They talk about you at Civitas, you know? I'll spare you the details, but—' he looked Kun up and down— 'I'm afraid you don't really live up to the image I had in my head. I have to wonder why Lord Lee let you leave like that. He could've just killed you. But whatever. Before my time, right?’ 

Donghyuck took a slow sip from his champagne before continuing. ‘But _imagine_ my surprise when you showed up with our Tennie, twirling across the dance floor like two peas in a pod!'

' _Your_ Tennie?'

'Well, yeah. He's not Civitas, of course, and I'm sure you know as much. But he is special to us, still — he's just been a little stubborn lately. You know how nomads can be.'

‘And what do I have to do with this?’

‘We’d just like him back, that’s all,’ Donghyuck said, shrugging. ‘We miss him.’

‘Does he miss you back?’ Kun asked sardonically. ‘It doesn’t sound like you were on good terms.’

The Civitas Vampire started inspecting the buttons on his sleeve. ‘Well, not _anymore._ He left us without so much as a goodbye note — isn’t that heartbreaking? Personally, I was devastated. I hardly got the chance to get to know him.’

Kun grew more irked with every word out of his mouth. Donghyuck put on a good show, did all the right things with his expressions and voice — but he always left those little crumbs of inauthenticity behind, just enough to insult your intelligence. It was like his first language was sarcasm, and everything he said was tinged with the accent.

To no-one’s surprise, Donghyuck wasn’t telling him everything.

‘Tell me why you’re so fixated on my guest,’ Kun said coolly. ‘And maybe I won’t lose my temper with you.’

The other Vampire lifted his hands up in mock surrender. ‘Oh, c’mon, there’s no need for that! I’m not here to start a war with you. I’m just trying to give you a heads up, actually.’

He stepped closer, heels clicking on the marble and bouncing off the walls. He twirled his champagne for a few seconds, pretending to consider it very carefully; delaying the moment so that Kun could simmer more. Eventually he turned back to Kun with a tight-lipped, falsely sympathetic smile.

‘I mean, I’m _sure_ you’ve noticed by now,’ he said. He licked the tip of his finger and started to slide it around the rim of the champagne glass, eliciting a sharp, high tone from it. ‘The effect that he has on you?’

Kun frowned. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

Donghyuck gave him an odd look. He continued to ring that piercing note out of his glass. ‘If that’s the case, then nevermind. But trust me, Lord Qian — regardless of our history, we’re trying to _help_ you here. You don’t want to be saddled with Ten. He’s nothing but trouble. So just think about it, would you? Send him back to Civitas — we won’t harm him, if you care about that. But don’t let him drag you into a difficult situation.’

Kun stepped forward swiftly and put a hand over Donghyuck’s, stopping his finger from making that glassy wail. He leaned in close to him, his eyes hard and questioning. ‘He can come to you on his own terms. Leave me out of it.’

‘You were already in it the second you gave him any of your precious time.’

‘Just stay away from me and mine.’

Donghyuck’s eyes crinkled in a knowing way. ‘You and yours? Is Ten _yours_?’

‘He’s under my protection.’

‘Oh, Sanctuary?’

‘Well done.’

Donghyuck giggled. ‘Clever little Ten. Poor little you.’

‘We’re done here.’ Kun stepped back but Donghyuck reached out — he slid his fingers under the lapels of Kun’s blazer and made to straighten them out with a friendly pat.

‘It’s only just started, Lord Qian,’ he said. ‘Spare yourself the pain and hand him over. Maybe if you do, we can forget about this little rivalry? Hm? Civitas and Visio can become friends, how does that sound?’

Kun was hard-pressed to care anymore — he sharply swatted the young Vampire’s hands away. ‘Back off.’

Donghyuck immediately shrugged off his easygoing persona like a coat. 

‘I’m giving you a friendly warning,’ he said darkly. ‘Ten has something we want. And now you have Ten — you understand, right? We’re not in the business of asking twice.’

He stepped away from Kun and smiled, slipping back into phony friendliness. 

'Because I’m such a nice guy, I’ll tell Lord Lee that you’re “favourably considering it”, okay? That’ll keep him happy. A smart leader keeps an eye on the competition, Kun — you should remember that. By the way, you can have this back.'

He flicked a small object from his hand and Kun caught it just as it glinted in the lamplight. It was his ruby brooch, which had been pinned to his blazer just a minute ago.

‘You’re sluggish tonight,’ Donghyuck remarked. ‘A bad look for a Lord.’

Then he bowed, deeply, before disappearing. Just like that — the light shifted around him suddenly, like mirrors folding in and refracting on themselves, and his image blinked away from Kun’s vision. Then, finally, it was silent, and Kun was alone. Probably.

_He called me ‘Kun,’_ he thought distantly. It was an absurd, useless thought that came to him unbidden, splashing up through the whirlpool that currently constituted his thoughts. 

He needed to get away from here.

♔

What should have been an easy wade through the crowd felt like swimming upstream. Every time Kun caught a whiff of someone’s sweat or perfume, he felt close to getting swept away by hunger — but he was used to this. He could endure this. He’d been enduring for a very, very long time.

He found Ten again after a few agonising minutes, speaking low against the ear of some giggling dolt seated in his lap. His new friend was toying with the button on his scarlet blazer, strategically brushing his fingers against the smooth skin of Ten’s exposed chest. The lazy, cocky look in Ten’s eyes made Kun’s temper flash before he shoved it back down.

He stepped up to the couple, shoving past the entourage of people that had accumulated around Ten like debris. 

The younger Vampire’s face fell into annoyance as soon as he noticed Kun’s intrusion. 

‘I’m kinda busy,’ he started, sliding an arm around the waist of his current companion. ‘Bother me later.’

‘We’re leaving,’ Kun stated. 

Ten laughed and rolled his eyes. ‘In two hours, maybe, sure. It’s barely eleven thirty.’

‘ _Now._ ’

Ten stiffened and cast his eyes around at the people in their immediate vicinity. Then he looked back at Kun with a severe glare. Not taking his eyes off of him, he whispered something to the man in his lap, which prompted him to get up and leave. Disappointment was written all over his face.

Ten shot out of his seat to stand toe-to-toe with Kun.

‘Are you kidding me?’ he hissed. ‘Control yourself! Can’t you see what you’re doing?’

‘I don’t care what I’m—’

Ten yanked him closer by the front of his jacket. ‘Get a grip on your emotions, right now _._ You’re polluting the place.’

Kun belatedly realised that the people around them were avoiding them; they had a skittish look in their eyes and body language that suggested growing nervousness. Maybe even fear. _Oh..._

Ten looked him up and down, expression souring. ‘Are you—you still haven’t fed, have you? And you’re at a _buffet!_ ’

‘We are going to get our coats,’ Kun said slowly, feigning patience. ‘And then we are leaving.’ 

‘Did something happen or what?’

‘No.’ 

‘Then I’m not leaving until you feed first. You look—’

‘Like shit?’ Kun snapped. The words spewed out like magma. ‘Is that what you’re going to say? Because I _know_ , everyone is kind enough to remind me. You’ll probably tell me that another hundred times, since that’s evidently just how you are, so how about you start now and then continue in the car on the way back? I’m telling you that we can’t stay here, Ten. I’ve already called the driver so you _will_ come with me immediately.’

The cold stare that Ten gave him jabbed needles into his conscience, but there was no backtracking now. Every second spent here felt like another clump of soil filling his grave.

Or someone else’s.

‘Just leave me behind, then,’ Ten said quietly. 

Kun didn’t have time for guilt trips. ‘No. I’m stuck with you and you’re stuck with me. Deal with it.’

He turned and made for the exit, fully expecting Ten to follow him — if his guest had any sense of self-preservation, he’d stick to the Sanctuary agreement and return to the manor. If he didn’t, there were plenty of Civitas boys waiting around to scoop him up.

And Kun was not having that. He wasn’t going to let them have anything.

He experienced something akin to relief when he felt Ten’s fingers pinch the back of his jacket, linking them together so they navigate out of the crowd as one.

♔

Despite Ten’s co-operation, he didn’t bother to hide his belligerence. Kun met this with irritation of his own. Tension ensconced them both as they fetched their coats and made for the gigantic driveway outside Taemin’s manor. They both watched the central fountain in bitter silence, breathing out air that didn’t steam up in the cold. Thankfully, the chauffeur pulled up quickly, and Ten made sure to slam the door as he stepped inside.

Kun suppressed a groan as his fellow passenger launched into complaint right away.

‘You’re in a goddamned mood,’ he said hotly. ‘Would be cool if you didn’t make it _everyone_ ’s problem, especially mine.’

‘You had your fun,’ Kun shot back. ‘Lots of it. I did you a favour bringing you here.’ 

‘Like I asked you to come with me!’

‘I _had_ to come with you! What do you think Sanctuary _is —_ a simple hotel service?’

The dim light played off Ten’s jaw, which was being worked in displeasure. Kun continued, spurred on by the other’s petulance. ‘It’s my duty to keep an eye on you. To keep you s—’

‘Oh my God,’ Ten interrupted, throwing up his hands. ‘Safe? To keep me safe? You can’t be serious. I’m literally a creature of the night; I don’t need a bodyguard.’

Kun hushed him with a pointed glance toward the driver. In a quieter voice he said, ‘And I didn’t need someone to babysit but here we are.’ 

Ten laughed. It was mocking, which only poked the furnace of Kun’s enmity.

‘You couldn’t babysit a dead cat,’ said Ten. ‘You’re minutes away from keeling over dead ‘cos you refuse to eat, and now you’re acting a fool over it. You’re supposed to be this big-shot leader and I still swiped Isabelle out from under your nose. Your moods are casually leaching into the air like you’re _new_ to this shit. You’re barely in control of yourself, _my Lord._ ’

‘I am in control of myself.’

‘Liar.’

‘Oh, _I’m_ a liar?’ Kun spat back. ‘Tell me, has anything you’ve ever said to me been the truth? Because it’s barely been a day of having you in my life, Li Yongqin, and Civitas is suddenly up my ass again—’

‘—Excuse me?—

—‘ _because of you,_ and you think you can prance around a ballroom all night like nothing is wrong—’

Ten grabbed Kun by the wrist, gripping hard. ‘What are you talking about?’ 

Kun yanked his hand away. ‘Donghyuck approached me. They’re claiming you, do you know that? Looking for you. This is more than just "bad blood" and you know it, and now you’re dragging me into your shit.’

As a street light passed across the back seat, Kun swore that he saw Ten’s challenging eyes falter a bit.

‘Scream for help next time,’ Ten finally said, indignantly sitting back with crossed arms. ‘If you’re so scared of a baby like him.’

‘Right. Would you be able to tear yourself away from someone’s groping hands in time to save me?’

‘That’s rich!’ Ten hissed derisively. He kept his voice low, under the sound of the whirring engine. ‘Should I have spent the night glued to you? Feeding you drops of blood like you’re a fucking baby bird, maybe?’

‘Watch your tone. Do you know who you’re talking to?’

Ten scoffed at Kun’s livid expression. ‘I _thought_ I was talking to a Vampire Lord, but it looks like I’m actually dealing with a helpless little _vegetarian.’_

‘You’re childish!’

‘You’re a tyrant!’ Ten snapped his head away, crossing his arms and legs. The conversation was very much over.

Kun tried to think of something to say — something that could provoke Ten again, or get some answers out of him — but all he could think of was his conversation with Donghyuck. He tried not to think of the four scratches he left on a desk in the office, or the terrible things he thought while there, or the fever-hot bloodlust that drove his fangs to grow and his eyes to redden. He tried not to think about it. He tried.

He glanced over at the other Vampire, who was slumped low in the seat, staring out of the window. His posture was the picture of scorn and avoidance, and it was obvious he was shutting him out. Unwilling to give him another moment of his night. 

But Kun wanted to keep going. He so badly wanted to challenge him and trade barbs; to heat up the air inside this car with petty, angry words. He wanted to push Ten’s buttons just so he would push back. While covertly digging his sharp nails into the palm of his hand, he realised that what he wanted was a distraction. With silence came those familiar thoughts — _of blood and frightened rabbits, of preying on the weak_ — and they grew inside him with every second he spent alone with himself _._ Glaring at Ten’s insufferable face was better than watching the hypnotic blur of passing scenery. Arguing with him was better than letting his gaze wander, only to fall on the back of the human driver’s neck. 

He pressed his nails in harder. Hard enough to sting, but holding back from breaking the skin. Ten would probably wonder about the smell of blood.

The rest of the car ride was spent with no words exchanged. Kun came close to giving in on a few occasions, but the sight of Ten’s unmoving form — a monument to his stubbornness — just made him retreat into spiteful silence again.

When the driver opened the door for Kun at the front of his manor, he held his breath as he stepped out. He gave a curt nod to him, unwilling to look at him in case he saw prey, and strode to the door. Ten followed wordlessly, and they parted ways at the top of the stairs to the bedrooms.

It was when Kun was finally alone that he broke.

He sought relief from the dizziness by flopping onto his bed, praying that exhaustion would take him by the hand and lead him directly to deep sleep — but the room just continued to spin. All of his senses felt raw and abused. Redness creeped into the corners of his vision and every violent impulse he’d been suppressing was springing up in his brain.

The wretched scent of Jasmine bloomed from the sheets with all the sweetness of forest rot. It wasn’t right. Nothing was right. He clamped his eyes shut like a jail, as if it could trap his vicious instincts inside him.

The sound of shifting sheets and creaking wood was cacophonous to him, like instruments being destroyed inside his skull. His own inner voice was a tuneless, ugly noise, playing him symphonies that he’d spent the last century trying to forget.

Hunger was becoming madness. 

He could leave this room. He could find his way to town — drive? Could he drive? — and just pick someone, anyone. He would turn on the charm — _or not, they can’t overpower me anyway —_ and put an end to his hunger at last. He could drink just enough and put them somewhere safe — _safe, yes, where their body won’t be found_ — and go back home like normal. No-one was around to see him, and he could make it before sunrise if he hurried — _and I can drain them so quickly when I don’t have to hold back._

Nausea pooled inside him again. There was no way he could go into town now; not like this. It was better this way — being so far from everything. From people. Other people? No, just people. Real people, not like him. _He_ was just a hungry, sick, desperate dog — a monster, a murderer, a _predator, the top of the food chain, I can have anyone and drain them dry, don’t you agree, sweetling, sweetling, sweetling, sweet—_

Kun lurched out of bed with a thud to the floor. He found his way to the bedroom door, then to the stairs, then down — down somewhere deep and dark and cold enough for him. 

A basement. More dust than light, more rot than structure. Somewhere living things could live if they weren’t picky. Somewhere a Vampire could feed if he were out of options. A place for vermin of all kinds.

When he spotted movement in his periphery, he shot his arm out and caught a squirming, squeaking little thing.

He did that a few times, until there were no more to find.

He was a Lord. He’d earned his place and proved his leadership, and devoted his tedious existence to collecting orphaned monsters who deserved better than what lonely immorality could give them. Circle Visio had no-one but each other — they had no-one but Kun to watch out for them. It drove him mad to admit it, to even _think_ about it, but obviously Ten was right: it’s irresponsible to be starving, to be weak. Kun had made so many mistakes in his protracted life, and he was becoming hungry enough to make them again. He thought he’d mastered the art of enduring — but, at last, he simply could not endure it anymore.

So, while a stranger slept upstairs, Lord Qian drank the bitter blood of rats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kun...stop...you’re scaring the hoes...
> 
> So yeah ‘Light Angst’ was an understatement. The tags will be changed and added accordingly going forward! Thank you for enjoying this fic and leaving such wonderful, thoughtful and encouraging comments.
> 
> K’s and c’s appreciated!


	6. Sight Reading

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while since I last updated this, thank you for your patience! Enjoy seven thousand words of more dialo—[GUN SHOTS]
> 
> UPDATE: Because I'm evidently God's favourite, there is now [gorgeous fanart](https://twitter.com/BumbleBoa/status/1355260034884755467) of this chapter! Thank you Miss [Bee](https://twitter.com/BumbleBoa) for using your genius hands to create my favourite two drawings on Earth.

♚

The next day had an early start for Ten. He hadn’t slept much this morning either, but it was less about the anxiety, and more about his body feeling refreshed for the first time in ages. His inability to sleep for more than an hour or two had everything to do with feeling nourished and invigorated, and nothing to do with last night’s heated (and unresolved) exchange in the car. 

He yanked open the tap of the bathtub harder than necessary. _No. Nothing to do with it at all._

He luxuriated in a bubble bath for a while, taking full advantage of the lavish en suite bathroom. There were parts of the manor that he considered rather stuffy and old-fashioned, and he couldn’t help an itch to re-decorate the place — but the quaintness _did_ make it welcoming and romantic sometimes, like he could pretend to be a prince for the next month and act like all this luxury actually belonged to him. 

When he saw Kun’s manor from the outside the first time, his imagination ran wild. He’d only heard of Lord Qian in passing snippets and overheard gossip, and even those whispers lacked substance. From what he’d picked up during his brief fraternising with Civitas, he’d pieced together the image of an old, severe and iron-hearted Vampire who had shadowy meetings with his shadowy circle of rogues and misfits. Overall, _shadowy._ But what he got when the manor doors opened that night was a fluffy-haired, sweater-wearing, _take-me-home-to-mother_ -faced gentleman. Ten psyched himself up for nothing — this Lord Qian was a sucker.

Xuxi’s words played over in his mind. _‘Brother Kun is very, very nice,’ he said. ‘Don’t make him mad,’ he said._ He rolled his eyes to himself while staring at the shuttered skylight above the tub. Xuxi had made it sound like Kun would be frightening and cruel in his temper — like he would fly into a rage at the slightest transgression — but really, he was just _petty._ His voice took on this authoritative, scolding quality that rubbed Ten entirely the wrong way, but fighting with him felt more like bickering between spouses than a battle between natural enemies.

Still, Ten couldn’t deny that he had felt it again last night, gone as quick as it came: that hair-raising flash of _something_ when Kun’s tired, dizzy eyes met his own. Ten couldn’t identify it at all. On the stairs in the manor, and again at the ball — a force that exploded from Kun’s spirit like a solar flare before dissipating almost instantly. Was it really mere hunger that drove a Vampire’s aura to grow wild and uncontrolled like that? Or was this something particular to older, more powerful Lords?

Ten’s brain worked overtime to figure it out. The vibe that came off of Kun whenever it happened was familiar, somehow. It tickled his memory like a feather at the padlock of a vault, and no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t pin down what the sensation meant. Where had he felt it before? _Had_ he felt it before at all, or was he imagining it? 

_Fuck,_ he thought, frustrated. He sank deeper into the bubbles with a pout. He was ruining his own relaxation time with thoughts of his annoying, bossy, pathetically hungry host.

As he breathed in the hot, fragrant steam, he reluctantly considered the implications of Donghyuck cornering Kun at the ball. It would’ve been nice if he’d had a little more time to enjoy Sanctuary before the Civitas boys started swarming around Kun’s territory. Now, all he could hope for was that Kun had the clout to keep them all away long enough for Ten to regain his full strength. 

Judging by Kun’s performance last night, though, probably _not._

Ten slipped his head under the water to scream closed-mouthed. 

♚

Ten eventually climbed out of his ceramic, clawfooted heaven to get dressed. Keeping it simple, he slipped on a creamy satin shirt and black jeans, keeping accessories to a minimum. It dawned on him that he probably wasn’t going anywhere tonight, and would have to spend the day in or around the manor. 

With Kun.

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, given the way they’d left last night — not to mention Kun’s house was only entertaining for, say, a rich old fart with no sense of humour. The other Visions weren’t even going to be back for a few days. Ten huffed. Maybe a stroll in the surrounding woods would do him some good...he’d just have to wait for the sun to go down.

Not that the sun bothered him, of course, but nobody needed to know that. 

When Ten made his way downstairs, he met the aforementioned Lord, who was walking up. He stopped to look at Ten, eyes still heavy, like he’d just woken up.

He was in the same shirt and pants from last night. His hair was completely disheveled, which complimented the ensemble of wrinkled fabric that made up his outfit. 

Ten made a face. ‘Did you sleep in that?’

Kun looked down at himself and then up again. ‘Oh.’

‘You just...passed out right away?’

‘I was tired.’

‘God. You really _are_ an old man.’ 

Kun made sure to shove his shoulder into Ten as he walked past. The intimidating effect was lost when he dragged his feet and his shoulders were slumped with obvious fatigue. Then his shuffling footsteps paused.

‘Almond coconut?’ he asked.

Ten narrowed his eyes, confused. He turned to answer him. ‘Yeah. The bubble bath in the guest room.’

‘Bath _crème,_ ’ Kun corrected absently. And then, ‘It suits you.’

He ran a hand through his hair and yawned before continuing up the stairs. ‘I unlocked the ballroom for you. Enjoy your victory. It won’t be interesting, I assure you, but it’s the prize you wanted.’ If Kun was going for passive-aggression, it barely filtered through the low rumble of his sleepy drawl. The argument from last night seemed entirely forgotten, in fact.

Ten felt robbed. He was hoping Kun would personally let him into his mysterious, locked ballroom himself, complaining all the way. Instead, he left him alone and plodded off to the master bedroom in the creased formalwear he slept in. When Kun stretched his arms above his head, Ten noticed several thin tears in the side of his shirt, the black fabric shifting over pale skin.

‘What the fuck,’ whispered Ten, to himself, about everything and nothing all at once. 

♚

Oddly, Ten felt himself procrastinate his visit to the ballroom. With honed ears, he could hear a shower running somewhere upstairs. After a while, he even picked up the vague scent of something sweet – a lotion or perfume or a shampoo, maybe – wafting from across the house. Though they could be better, it felt good to have sharper senses again.

With that, he thought to test something; perform a quick check-in with his own neglected powers. Perhaps it was too soon...but he could start with something small.

Ten found a mirror (it wasn't hard, Kun had practically hundreds scattered around the walls) and looked at himself. He paid attention to little things: the exact length of his hair, the particular hue of his eyes, the shape of his teeth.

With a gentle twist of the ring on his finger – a ritual, a habit – he focused on his image. He painted a new portrait of himself in his mind, each brushstroke firing off a bolt of his inner magic. Something simple this time, though...something he should be able to do in his sleep...

When he looked at himself again, his reflection showed a dusting of brown freckles across his nose and cheeks. With a thought, he willed them away again, leaving behind unmarked skin.

He tried again with a centimetre of hair — then two, then three. He blew his bangs up from his face with a pouty lower lip. Then he shrank the strands to their original length. It was so easy.

_So easy...maybe I'm ready to..._

He slipped his ring up his finger, just slightly, just so he could try and shift a little more—

In an instant, his vision turned to a wet blur of colour and light. His own incisors sharpened in a split second, piercing the inside of his lip, and Ten panicked.

He slipped his ring back on swiftly.

He checked himself in the mirror: back to normal. Nothing untoward, and nothing lingering from his shift. _Idiot_ , he chided himself. _I know you hate it, but baby steps. Baby steps._

With a quick, paranoid glance around, he determined he was still alone. Kun was likely still upstairs, meticulously selecting a sweater that was _just_ the right amount of stupid-looking, and planning new ways to bore the shit out of him.

The taste of his own blood fresh in his mouth, Ten went to the ballroom. The doors were still closed, but when he twisted the knob this time, they easily opened up, and Ten's jaw dropped.

The space was a _mess_.

The limited view he got the other day did not prepare him for the full sight of this huge room. What he expected was a clean, mostly empty floor space, the end of which held a black grand piano — and sure enough, the piano was there, covered in a protective sheet. But so, too, were dozens of...workshop tables?

Ten stepped inside. Okay, so the place wasn't _filthy,_ and there was an methodical nature to the way everything in here was arranged: worktables and boxes, huge metal frames and thin panels of wood, tools upon tools upon tools, large metal contraptions that Ten couldn't identify, and sheets of paper covered in technical drawings.

A most beautiful ballroom, with a high ceiling and gold-veined marbled floors, sullied by clutter. Ten scanned the room, completely agog.

Towards the edges there were even more things, though more mundane in nature. In one particular corner, there were cabinets and bookshelves and a desk. Photos dotting the walls in some places, unframed but neatly hung up. Ten's conscience told him not to look, because it felt private, but Ten's conscience was weak against his overpowering curiosity.

So many of the photos were old, and some others were actually just realistic sketches. Some of Kun himself, and others of people he didn't recognise. He guessed one painting to be of his family: two parents and a big-headed little boy, dressed in the attire of Kun's heritage. In another black and white photograph, an older Kun was standing with an elderly man. They were both staring impassively into the camera, as people were wont to do in the 1800s. Ten estimated Kun to be around nineteen or twenty, though the quality of the photo made it hard to tell — in any case, his face was just a little rounder and softer, and his posture was timid. A young and unsure human man. 

Ten was struck by another photo, which was particularly worn with age. Kun again, still pudgy-faced, seated at a piano. His fingers were placed over the keys and he faced the camera, but it was stiff and posed. The look on his face was comical, and honestly a little bit cute, like he’d sat for several minutes with a permanently startled expression.

‘Does it live up to expectation?’ Kun’s voice came from behind him.

Ten hadn’t heard him approach this time. He turned, shoving hands into his pockets. ‘Nope. I thought this was going to be a ballroom, instead it’s—’ he gestured to the room at large, grimacing — ‘whatever this is. What is all this stuff?’ 

‘Abandoned projects,’ replied Kun with a flat smile. ‘Though you’re clearly more interested in prying into my more personal business.’ 

‘What can I say? It’s interesting to see baby Kun. The way you act, I would’ve thought you were _born_ a grumpy old man. You never told me you play the piano, either.’

‘Was I meant to?’

Ten began sauntering across the room to the piano, and Kun followed. ‘You’re right, I should’ve guessed from the _two_ grand pianos you have in this manor. That I know of, anyway.’

‘There’s an upright in one of the offices, too. Or did you miss that one while snooping around my house like a thief?’

Ten smirked. ‘Yeah, I guess I did.’

Kun rolled his eyes. He seemed better now; no longer the disheveled mess he was on the stairs, and certainly not the snappy, moody mess he was last night. Though not brimming with vigor, he finally looked like he had both feet out of the grave.

‘The one in the Conservatory is just for decoration,’ said Kun unprompted. ‘If you’re going to mess with anything in my home, I beg that it not be _that_. It’s fragile. I uncover it when guests come over, because it’s a beautiful antique, but it’s utterly unplayable now. I just keep it around because it’s my first.’

‘The first piano you ever bought?’

A tiny, fond smile creeped into the Lord’s lips. ‘First I ever made.’

He lifted the sheet off of the instrument, the fabric billowing over with a flourish. When it settled, Kun grazed a hand softly over the embossed lettering above the keyboard. Ten bent to peer at it:

_Qian & Sons _

Huh. Well, that certainly suited him. He glanced around, understanding what all the stuff around him was: the various parts of pianos-in-the-making, like shaped wooden panels and harp frames and strings.

‘You made your fortune in pianos,’ Ten said, giving a nod of acknowledgement.

‘Some of the finest in the world,’ Kun replied, and pride gilded every syllable. ‘Other instruments, too, after a while: organs, harps, violins, and so on. I had infinite time to branch out.’ 

Ten leaned to rest his elbows against the lid of the instrument. ‘Where are the sons, then?’

Kun laughed. A short and breathy thing, but mirthless. 

‘No sons,’ Kun said. ‘Not really, anyway. With a bit of careful fraud, you can be your own son. And grandson, and great-grandson, _ad infinitum_. These pianos have been in my “family” for “generations”’ — he provided air quotes — ‘so I’ve been enjoying the inheritance.’

‘The inheritance you got from yourself,’ Ten added.

‘Absolutely,’ said Kun, nodding sagely. ‘My great grand-self was a masterful piano-maker. I’m grateful for his legacy.’

Ten grinned. ‘So you’re a fraudster.’

‘Unfortunately, yes,’ he admitted. ‘It was all a bit terrifying at first. I think I’ve charmed at least a dozen government officials and even more company board members. But what choice do I have, really? It was either that, or live like a nomad, and I didn’t want that.’

Ten allowed himself a half-smile. ‘It’s not all bad.’ 

‘It wouldn’t suit me,’ replied Kun. ‘I’ve always been more of a homebody. Obviously.’

‘And now you’re a single father of so many beautiful pianos,’ Ten said, placing a hand over his heart in mock sentimentalism.

He hoped it would get a chuckle out of Kun — instead it cast a dull shadow in his eyes. 

‘Would’ve been nice to have some real sons though,’ he muttered, huffing a laugh that he didn’t mean. ‘Or daughters, or anyone, you know? But maybe my Sire did me a favour by turning me before I could start a family. That kind of attachment would’ve been...’

Ten accepted the awkward silence that fell upon them when Kun trailed off. Sometimes those kinds of silences told you more than words ever could — and this one was telling him that Kun had a bitter heart under those soft sweaters.

‘Anyway, that reminds me,’ Kun said, shifting topics swiftly. ‘About Isabelle — she’s fine, right?’

‘Of course she is,’ replied Ten. ‘I’m no rookie.’

‘And did you two…’ Kun’s voice became strained suddenly. He looked upwards awkwardly, like the ceiling could fill in the rest of the question for him. 

Ten was delighted. Kun was setting himself up so nicely.

‘Did we what?’ Ten purred, stepping up to him. He was inches from Kun’s averted face, relishing in how the other man’s shoulders tensed at the sudden proximity. 

‘You _know ,_ Li Yongqin—’

Ten played dumb.

‘She was an engaged woman…’

‘So what’s the question, my Lord? You wanna know if I took her into a storeroom for a quick fu—’

‘Ssshttt!’ Kun hissed, snapping his head down and waving his hands urgently. ‘I regret asking! Seriously, have some morals, you—’

‘We didn’t,’ Ten interrupted. ‘You’re insane if you think she’s my type.’

Kun’s embarrassment made way for a perplexed expression. ‘Oh. Oh, I _see…_ ’

‘See what?’

Kun nodded sagely before putting a sympathetic arm on Ten’s shoulder. ‘She rejected you, huh?’

‘What? No—’

‘Look, it happens to the best of us.’

‘Okay, firstly, you’re annoying, and secondly—’

‘It was a good effort though, I’ll give you that—’

‘—stop—’

‘—chastity is a powerful thing—’

‘—Stop!’

And suddenly, Kun was giggling right in his face. Ten had to pause just to _look._

He had seen many smiles in his long life. He’d encountered so many, that he had a typology for them now: shy smiles that were little more than a tensing of pursed lips; slow-forming, deliberate smiles that were easy to provoke but hard to read; broad, flashy smiles that opened like the gates of a Hollywood movie set. Hundreds, thousands, hundreds-of-thousands more. In Taemin’s grandiose ballroom alone, he had mentally checked them all off one-by-one against the list he’d made over two centuries of watching people.

Now, Kun showed him one he hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t there, and then suddenly it was — a sunburst, blinding for a split second before illuminating high cheeks and a scrunched nose and —

— dimples? Ten hadn’t noticed he had dimples.

They seemed so painfully innocent. Something a half-living, blood-sucking monster shouldn’t have, but there they were: deep and symmetrical and absolutely devastating to the unaware victim. Ten wondered if those little dents were the final straw in Kun’s seduction of his prey; unassuming mortals who were hard-pressed to distrust the kind of smile bright enough to leave deep, pretty shadows in his cheeks. 

Ten had seen many smiles in his long life, but this one defied his categories. It was none of them. It was all of them. It cut through the centuries of existence that weighed heavy in Kun’s eyes. It flooded his masculine features with playfulness and warmth and youth. 

The _nerve_ of Lord Qian for laughing at him. For smiling like he wasn’t a Vampire: just a walking act of violence waiting to happen. The audacity of showing him something brand new. 

How could it be _new?_

Ten’s hackles rose and he shoved his arm off. ‘You sure are cocky for someone who couldn’t score a single drink last night.’

Kun clicked his tongue, smile fading but not all the way. ‘Maybe if I wasn’t batting your stalker from Civitas away like a fly, I’d have had the time.’

He pulled the protective sheet over the piano again, patting it down neatly — affectionately, almost. Ten tensed, waiting for some inevitable question that would follow from the mention of Donghyuck, but it never came. Kun merely started quietly humming a tune as he walked away, absently neatening up piles of stuff on his floor and tables. Ten couldn’t help it:

‘You’re not gonna try ask again?’

Kun turned to him with a mild, questioning look. 

‘About my history with Civitas,’ Ten continued. The words were jettisoned out by an engine of inexplicable nerves. ‘You’re not gonna ask what I did? What they want from me?’ 

Kun shook his head. ‘Not for now. Whatever you did to them, they probably deserved it, and if keeping you under Sanctuary gets under their skin, then I’m satisfied.’ He brushed some imperceptible dust off his shirt. ‘To hell with them.’

When Kun walked off with a casual “close the door on your way out”, Ten was left a little bit stunned. What the hell happened between last night and this morning?

Why was his relief accompanied by deep, deep annoyance? 

Just like their waltz, Kun wiggled his way into control and spun Ten’s mood around like a ragdoll.

Ten swiped a pile of papers to the floor before stomping out. He didn’t bother closing the door.

♚

A few days passed, and Ten’s restlessness was reaching critical mass. He’d taken a few trips to town with Kun (the Lord didn’t give him any other choice), and split his nights between arguing with him and tracking down suitable people to drink from. Unfortunately, of the many he’d met, none were satisfying — their essences tasted more dull and unrefined, and their wills were so weak that Ten could barely get his fill before their minds started teetering off the edge of sanity. Ten knew that these were drawbacks of being rushed and drinking from strangers, but he didn’t exactly have the time to cultivate meaningful relationships. He had to settle for base, unsophisticated attraction, which had already become boring a hundred years ago. After a while, he considered tracking down some nuns that he could get close to, and drink their inner conflict like a hot tea. 

If only nuns frequented bars.

He had to stop himself from complaining about it aloud to Kun, because as far as Vampires were concerned, blood was blood. There was no differentiating between it like a vintner would a collection of wines.

Speaking of wine, Kun drank a lot of it. He would nurse a few glasses listlessly at the bar while Ten worked around the room, going from disappointing target to disappointing target. Then they’d move on to the next place. Ten bit back many sour remarks, particularly those about Kun’s lack of desire to drink from anyone. Sometimes, though, he _didn’t_ refrain from making a comment, and the two of them would launch into another heated argument about “babysitting” and “starvation” and “do you really need to drink every Goddamned day, Ten?”. It was getting old.

However, whenever Ten’s instincts urged him to cut loose from Kun and seek more exciting pastures elsewhere, he remembered just how many Civitas were lying in wait for him — patiently seeking the first opportunity to catch Ten outside of Kun’s Sanctuary and drag him back to Lord Taeyong Lee.

Ultimately, he was just between jailors — but one (as bossy and nonsensical as he was) was preferable over the other. By miles.

♚

By the grace of some God or other, Yangyang finally returned. The energy of the manor completely changed at the arrival of the youngest among them, much to Kun’s faux-chagrin. Now, the Vampire Lord was getting pulled into conversations and activities and heated debates about nothing that mattered, and Ten enjoyed seeing his light-hearted frustration play out. The fondness that he had for Yangyang was unmistakable — he shared more smiles with him in one day than he had with Ten in a week.

Ten didn’t want to keep to himself (or to Kun) anymore — he wanted to be with Yangyang, and the other visions, and just watch them effortlessly suck the loneliness out of the air.

The two newly-forged best friends were now orbiting around Kun while he attended to some estate-related paperwork. Every now and then he looked up to glare at them when they played a video too loudly off of Yangyang’s phone, or made a joke at his expense, but eventually he gave up the pursuit entirely.

‘I know he’s happy to have me back,’ Yangyang said to Ten. ‘I think out of all of us, like, he misses me the _most._ ’

‘Not true,’ Kun sniped, not looking up.

‘Also, is it just me, or is it even colder now than when I left?’

‘I hadn’t noticed,’ Kun replied again. At this point, Ten figured he was just pretending to be working. ‘Besides, we’re always cold, Yangyang. We’re Vampires.’

Yangyang hummed thoughtfully. ‘Like snakes or lizards. Or fish.’ 

‘We’re not like snakes or lizards or fish,’ Kun shot back. He almost sounded offended.

‘Leeches, then!’

Ten snorted, triggering a gleeful smile from Yangyang. 

‘You’re really mean about your own kind,’ said Ten, stretching out on the couch in this large private office, simultaneously kicking Yangyang off. The velvety vintage sofa looked hard and unwelcoming at a glance, but as he settled in, it wrapped him like a hug. Even _this_ piece of furniture smelled nice, clean and floral notes greeting him as the cushions compressed under his weight.

Yangyang unceremoniously snatched one of the cushions out from under Ten’s legs and hugged it, flopping onto the opposite couch. ‘I actually think being a Vampire is awesome. You should hear Kun talk about it! He’s got gripes for days. Months. Years.’

Ten raised his eyebrows and glanced at Kun. ‘I’m not surprised,’ he said. ‘He lives like he was never turned in the first place. He doesn’t even do any of the cool Vampire shit.’

Kun snapped his head around, face crinkled peevishly. ‘Like what?’

‘You know,’ Ten replied, gesturing vaguely. ‘You don’t throw lavish parties, you don’t keep servants, you don’t take multiple lovers—’ Yangyang made a noise of disgust— ‘And you only drink blood out of obligation. You’re so _ordinary._ ’

Kun swiftly returned to the pile of letters at his desk, facing away as he replied, ‘How do you know I don’t take lovers?’

‘Stop it!’ Yangyang whined. ‘Disgusting topic!’

Ten ignored him. ‘No-one who wears sweaters daily has _lovers._ ’

‘They’re warm,’ Kun muttered. ‘Anyway, _you_ don’t throw lavish parties either.’

‘I could throw one here,’ Ten said, inspecting his nails. ‘Now that I have a big house.’

‘You’ll do no such thing. You don’t “have a big house”, because this is _my_ big house.’

Yangyang joined the fray. ‘Actually, like, why not, Kun? A party would be lit.’

Kun sighed. It seemed to be a very specific sigh, coded in a way that only Yangyang understood, because he immediately clarified. ‘Oh, “lit” is like the new “cool” or “dope”.’

‘Thanks,’ Kun said. ‘But still, no. I’m not bringing strangers into my house.’

‘You brought Ten into your house.’

Ten made a mocking _‘_ _oooh’_ sound and watched Kun’s shoulder’s deflate from an irritated huff.

‘Just think about it, okay?’ Yang said cheerfully. His phone beeped with a notification, and his eyes widened when he read it. He shot up off the couch, chucking the cushion onto Ten. ‘I gotta go. I, like, totally forgot I have to meet someone.’

‘A date?’ asked Ten.

‘Bye!’

Yangyang practically bounced out of the room, but stuck his head back in after a few seconds. ‘And I almost forgot this! Kun, catch!’

Yangyang tossed something. Kun, with impressive reflexes, caught it with one hand, and a grin spread over his face as he inspected it.

‘I completely forgot that you had these,’ he said to Yangyang. ‘You borrowed this a decade ago, you rascal!’

‘Sorry!’ Yangyang sing-songed. ‘Also, I’ll be back maybe, like...the night after tomorrow? Maybe? Sorry Ten! But I’m meeting Xuxi before that so we’ll both come back at the same time! I’ll tell him you miss him! And, dude, did you know Kun can do magic tricks? Make him show you! Okay bye!’

And then Ten was alone with Kun again. _Thrilling,_ he thought to himself sardonically. _And every new thing I learn about Kun is nerdier than the last._

He looked over to see what Yangyang had given to him. It was some kind of worn-looking tin — when Kun opened it, he pulled out a deck of cards. There were other small objects in it that Ten couldn’t see. The Lord’s eyes were practically sparkling as he began shuffling the cards.

Ten got up to sit opposite him at the desk, nosily inspecting these newly-acquired things, but Kun didn’t think to scold him.

Suddenly, he noticed something. It flitted into his peripheral senses, and then was gone — something about the way Kun’s fingers moved just at that moment. Quick and practiced, but deceptively natural. Then he was back to shuffling the cards normally.

‘What was that just now?’ Ten asked, eyes now laser-focused on Kun’s hands.

Kun cocked his head. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You did something. With the cards.’ 

‘I was just shuffling them?’

Ten snapped his eyes back up to glare at him. ‘That’s not how people shuffle cards. Your hands did...a thing...like you snapped your wrist a little.’

‘Oh. Sorry, must be an old habit.’ 

Kun fanned the cards out, pushed them back together, before deftly separating them into two piles with one hand. Then each hand, with impossibly smoothly-moving fingers, separated each of those piles into two again. He folded all four piles together before flicking his hand sharply and sending a single card flying out of the deck. He caught it effortlessly with the middle and forefingers on his other hand, then folded it back into the deck in an instant.

Ten, with his super-heightened senses and honed hunting instinct, could barely follow any of it.

‘Magic,’ Kun stage-whispered, making jazz hands. 

Ten made a disgusted face. ‘There’s not magic. You just shuffled a deck in a fancy way. Walk into any casino and there’ll be at least ten people doing that.’

‘Ah, yeah…’ Kun sighed. He leafed the cards together dejectedly. ‘It’s been a century or two, so I’m a little out of practice. Can’t really do the same tricks I used to.’

Ten smirked, and opened his mouth to tease him.

‘Oh, but—’ Kun stopped him, reaching his hand up to the side of Ten’s face. ‘That doesn’t mean you can steal my precious props.’ 

‘Huh?’

His fingers grazed the hair at Ten’s temple, curled behind his ear, before he drew his hand back — holding a card that wasn’t there before, clear as day.

‘Hide them wherever you want,’ Kun continued, and flicked the front pocket of Ten’s shirt. ‘You’ll have a hard time sneaking all fifty-two of my cards out of here.’ 

Before Ten could react, Kun hooked a finger into the pocket and slid out another card. He flourished it in front of Ten’s face before stacking it back on his deck.

‘This is ridiculous,’ Ten scoffed. He hoped he was hiding his surprise — Ten was long-lived, supernaturally gifted, and his senses were knife-sharp. He’d watched magicians before, and their tricks were as transparent as glass.

But those were humans. 

‘Ugh, seriously!’ Kun suddenly huffed, putting on a disappointed pout. He gently grabbed Ten’s chin and turned it slightly, as if inspecting him. ‘Now you’re taking my money?’

After sliding an audacious finger across the underside of Ten’s jaw, he released him, snapping his wrist back and splaying his fingers: now, with a shiny coin between each of them. 

This time, Kun allowed himself a smile. Triumphant. Confident. And...young. Suddenly really young. An earnest boy showing off the thing that made him special.

'Wow,’ Ten said. ‘You’re a dork.’

Kun clicked his tongue and shook his head, returning to his shuffling. The victorious little smile remained.

‘You know,’ Ten said. ‘You’d really make a killing doing shows. Human performers wouldn’t be able to compete with you.’

Something shifted in Kun’s face that Ten couldn’t quite read. A miniscule furrow of the brow and tensing of the mouth. 

‘Ah, well,’ Kun said. ‘That’s exactly the problem. Magic’s only fun when an ordinary person does it, don’t you think? I’ve got too many advantages now: better reflexes, quicker hands, a hypnotic aura that wraps humans around my card-shuffling fingers...you know, abilities that are _actually_ magical. This was a true skill back when I was mortal. I worked hard for it, and practiced, and everybody _ooh_ -ed and _aah_ -ed. That felt good as a kid. As a Vampire, though...now, sleight-of-hand is just standard fare. Too easy. Not worth it.’

He uttered a prolonged sigh.

‘But anyway,’ he finished, placing the cards into the tin again. ‘A trade-off is a trade-off. I get to live forever right?’

There was an edge to his voice that Ten did not like. 

As Kun stood up to leave, Ten yanked on his shirtsleeve, pulling him back into his seat.

‘Hey—!’

‘Show me a trick,’ Ten said, nodding to the prop tin. ‘A proper one.’ 

‘So you can make fun of me? Pass.’

‘No,’ Ten said firmly, leaning across the table. ‘So I can figure it out.’

Kun crossed his arms and leaned back. His dimples flitted in and out of view as he pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, and Ten watched the movement.

Ten had to remember himself. _Don’t watch_ that, _watch his hands_.

‘How many times do you think I need to do it before you identify the trick?’ Kun asked.

Ten was confident. ‘Two times.’

Kun gave him an infuriating _if you say so_ kind of smile.

‘We’ll go as many times as you like,’ Kun said, grabbing the cards again. ‘How about a warm-up first?’

‘Wow, patronising much.’

Kun waved his hands. ‘No, no, no — the warm-up is for _me_ , I assure you. I’m rusty and you’re inhumanly perceptive, remember?’ And then he flashed a smile that Ten instantly hated: an eye-crinkling, dimple-flashing, heart-stopping plastic mask; the one you get from a car salesman, about to convince you to buy a piece of shit that you shouldn’t. And it looked so, _so_ good on Kun.

Ten raised his guard up instantly. He knew what Kun was doing, trying to blind him with his winning smile — it was the first step in any magician’s act. They always start their performance long before the audience even picks their card.

‘Pick a card, please,’ Kun offered pleasantly, fanning the deck out with two hands.

Ten pointed to the Ace of Spades. Kun pulled the card out and set the rest of the deck aside. He twirled the card around in his fingers a few times, giving Ten a good view of its front and back.

Then, he held it up, the little black spade design facing his one-man audience. With his other hand, he gently wiggled his fingers in front of it, and Ten had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the little bit of hocus pocus. Kun scissored his fingers again in an opening-closing motion—

—and suddenly, the card was a King of Hearts. He spun it around to show off a completely ordinary front and back.

Ten didn’t quite catch it, but the core of the trick was obvious. ‘Two cards. You held them both the whole time.’

‘Alright,’ Kun said. ‘So how did I switch them?’

Ten gestured for him to demonstrate the trick again. He made an effort to focus on Kun’s other hand (not the one with the silly finger wiggles), zeroing in to try and spot the switch.

He cried out and pointed excitedly when it struck him. ‘When you spun the card around — you pulled the other one into your palm. Then you…’ Ten chewed his lip, trying to replay it in his mind slowly. ‘Then you did the wiggle, and that’s when you put the palmed card on top. Am I right?’

Kun cocked his head and exhaled with a defeated little smile. ‘Good. We’ll do something more tricky now, okay?’

Ten watched smugly as Kun went from cocky to impressed-annoyed, and sat up a little bit straighter in this seat. Then, he rolled up his sleeves.

Ten wished he hadn’t — seeing forearms on an otherwise modestly-dressed man was distracting in a way that he simply didn’t have time for right now.

Before he could catch himself, Kun was already speed-shuffling a deck of cards, twisting and cutting and throwing and catching the cards in all manner of ways. He was absolutely showing off.

Then he presented the deck for Ten. ‘Tell me to stop.’ Ten waited a bit while Kun transferred cards one-by-one from one hand into the other. When Ten told him to stop, he flipped the chosen card over: the Queen of Diamonds.

'Go ahead and take it, and then place it back—’ he fanned the cards out with one hand — ‘in the middle here. Go on, push it in. Thank you.’

He folded the cards back together into a neat pile, giving a little finger-wiggle flourish once more over the top of the deck. Ten’s chosen card was supposedly trapped somewhere in the middle…

‘Turn the top card over,’ he heard Kun say. Ten did: the Six of Clubs.

‘Not my ca—’

Kun poked Ten’s chest suddenly. Instinctively, Ten looked down, only for Kun to flick his nose — and when Ten glared up at him, he held the Queen of Diamonds between his fingers. 

‘That’s stupid,’ he said flatly.

‘Got you, though,’ Kun replied cheerily.

‘Do it again.’ 

With a little chuckle, Kun started the trick over. This time, the card Ten landed on was the Joker. 

‘Oh,’ Kun said, a bit surprised. ‘Quite a special card. Lucky!

He resumed, and it was going smoothly. Ten was starting to get the idea — _when he tells me to push the card in, he needs his other hand to —_

Ten shot his arm out and clapped his hand over Kun’s, trapping it against the tabletop. 

He expected a look of exasperation, a glare of warning...but Kun’s mouth broke open into a grin again. He darted his tongue to the side, between his (perfect, perfect) teeth, as if biting back a snarky admonition. 

Ten so badly wanted to ruin this for him.

‘Go on,’ he urged. ‘Finish your trick. If you can.’

‘I need both hands, Yongqin,’ Kun whined, completely insincerely. He pouted, too, which made Ten grimace in disgust.

‘God, shut _up,_ I hate that voice.’ 

Kun sighed in mock exasperation and gathered the fanned cards into a pile one-handed. ‘Whatever shall I do?’ 

Ten glanced at his face — although smiling, there were the subtle giveaways of tension in his brows and jaw, and the way he darted his eyes. Kun was playing the part of a confident illusionist very well, but it seems he couldn’t help but show the strain of being handicapped. That’s not something he could hide from Ten, no matter how much he tried. Ten bit back a victorious smirk before returning his attention to the cards.

Kun inhaled, as if bracing himself. ‘Is this your card?’

He fanned the cards with one hand, then flicked his wrist sharply. With the motion, one of the cards appeared face up: the Jack of Clubs. 

Ten scoffed, triumphant. ‘Nope. Not my card.’

‘Nuh-uh,’ he heard Kun grunt. His next words sounded...muffled. ‘Over here, handsome.’

Ten’s eyes shot up to Kun’s face — who suddenly had the Joker hanging between his grinning teeth. 

All the supposed strain in his face, the inhalation of stress — that was bullshit, too. Kun had showmanship etched into every tiny detail, and had played Ten like a fiddle.

Ten leaned back and crossed his arms in petulance. ‘Again.’

And the magician obliged him.

Ten watched his every move, down to the tiniest flex of muscle in his hands. He tried to look wherever Kun _didn’t_ direct him to look, and soon Ten was creasing his brow in concentration to try and keep up. He couldn’t just watch the hands — or the mouth — he had to read every part of Kun’s act: the eye contact, the smiles, the specific instructions he gave. Ten pinned all his focus into reading him and didn't realize until it was too late that _that was a bad idea._

Kun had his full attention, too much of it, and now Ten could no longer avoid sensing the aura that radiated from him as he performed. 

He could get drunk off of it: the youthful glint in his eye; the sheer, unmitigated confidence coming from him. He could feel it running through him like a current, and it buzzed under his palm when he flattened it over Kun’s hand a second time. His charisma hung in the air and wrapped its tendrils around Ten like they were opium vapours — a heady incense made of practiced, playful deception. Ten wished he could touch it, play with it, inhale it. 

He wanted to drink it from him.

Not for the first time, he cursed his own powers. 

Kun completed the trick several times, adding some new kind of flourish each time. His smile only brightened every time Ten rolled his eyes or made a disapproving click — but at this point, Ten was sure he was barely hiding his rapt attention anymore. 

After a fourth demonstration, Ten was able to explain each step of the trick, and Kun very clearly pretended to be scandalised about it. 

‘Such a tough crowd,’ he joked, finally putting the deck of cards away. ‘Maybe I _do_ miss performing for humans.’ 

‘If you have any more tricks,’ Ten said. ‘Show me so I can tear them apart, too.’

‘After three or four attempts, you mean?’ Kun teased.

When Ten spitefully stood up to leave, Kun called out. ‘Hey. Tell me if you want me to teach you sometime. You’d pick it all up quickly, I know it.’

Ten regarded him with suspicion. ‘I thought magicians weren’t meant to reveal their secrets.’

Kun shrugged. ‘I’ve got plenty to spare.’

_Yeah,_ Ten thought. _So do I._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interrogating Officer: it’s been 28k words and nothing sexy has happened yet  
> Me: *coughs up blood* heh…  
> Interrogating Officer: Something funny, asshole? *slaps me*  
> Me: *spits* fuck you  
> Interrogating Officer: *slams fists on table* You’re a sicko, you know that? You’re writing all of the Slow and none of the Burn. You’re raising more questions and answering none. You use em-dashes inconsistently. You’re so fucked up.  
> Me: And I’ll do it for another 28k words, too! *writhes in chair*
> 
> Tl;dr I assure you, comrades, I’m also being driven crazy by the pace of this story. Please hang in there.


	7. Resonance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t ask me why this chapter is so long (11k!!!), I simply don’t have an answer for you. But perhaps I can titillate you with a few new characters? And the Mafia? And a puppy?
> 
> CWs/TW’s for this chapter: animal death (not the puppy, though!), violence, blood, injury, implied drug use.

♔

_‘I knew you were special from the start, sweetling.’ He brushed a thumb under Kun’s eye and along the swell of his cheekbone, and Kun’s head panged with pain. ‘This only proves just how special you are.’_

_There was a fatherly adoration in the Viscount’s eyes that coated Kun’s heart in oil. His Sire anointed him with affection and praise and expectation, and some part of Kun ached to believe that it was love._

_‘They won’t be missed,’ the Viscount continued. ‘You’ve done well, and you really ought to leave all of that shame behind. You’re only feeding, as is your right; as is your need. There’s nothing shameful about surviving, don’t you agree?’_

_When Kun did not respond, the Viscount pressed a jagged fingernail into Kun’s cheek. It bled, but he knew better than to wince._

_‘Don’t you agree?’ his Sire repeated._

_Kun dragged his eyes away from the corpses strewn across the village square. He swallowed thickly, re-tasting the blood of dozens. He looked the Viscount in the eyes, dark like two clotted wounds._

_‘There is nothing shameful about surviving,’ Kun repeated._

_‘The strong consume the weak,’ the Viscount said._

_‘The strong...consume the weak.’_

_‘Good boy. You’ve done so well, and I believe your time with me is done — there is a young Lord in another land that I would like you to meet. You are ready to fly with the rest of our kind, aren’t you? They shall help you rise. Help you conquer.’ The Viscount patted Kun’s blood-caked hair and looked around, taking in the rotting carnage around them. He smiled like he was observing something wonderful, like a sunrise. He hummed in content. ‘Not a drop left for anyone.’_

_Only a monster could love Kun for the things he’d done. The Viscount loved him most of all._

♔

Kun's eyes snapped open at the sound of a blood curdling shriek.

He launched himself out of bed and sprinted downstairs, tracing the scream to the kitchen. There was a chill in the air as he drew closer, the bitter cold of the outdoors having crept in from an open door or window.

Now there was more yelling, shrill and panicked, along with another sound: a sharp, loud staccato that sounded like—

Yapping?

Kun rounded the corner to the kitchen, and was met with chaos. 

Ten was standing up on the counter, body wound taut in a defensive stance, while the ceiling light above him flickered wildly.

Below him, postured aggressively on the floor and growling savagely up at him, was a puppy.

Ten flinched and yelped when the little dog let out another series of angry yaps. With stricken eyes, he noticed Kun looking dumbly at him from the entryway.

'Kun!' he cried, suddenly irate. ' _Get it away!'_

'The...the puppy?'

' _Yes, the puppy, damn it!'_

Kun bent down and clicked his tongue encouragingly. 'Here doggy, come! Kiss kiss, come here, that's a good...girl?'

The puppy's ears flopped wildly when she turned her attention to Kun, then ran up to him. She bounced along the marble flooring like a filthy little snowball, paws muddied and wet from the outside. A mix of endearment and bewilderment swirled within Kun.

Ten accidentally kicked his foot against a metallic kitchen doodad, which snapped the puppy's attention back to him. She jerked away from Kun’s waiting hands and sped back towards her victim, who now resumed his distressed squawking. The ceiling light was still guttering in and out like a strobe in a club.

'Ten, are you seriously afraid of dogs?' Kun asked, incredulous.

Ten yelled over the incessant barking. ' _Qian Kun if you don't save me I'm going to break your whole fucking kitchen I promise you, I swear to you, mark my words—'_

Not one to underestimate the threat, Kun performed an undignified scuttle forward to scoop the dog up in his arms. He pet it soothingly and twisted around to break line-of-sight between it and Ten. It stopped barking instantly.

Ten audibly exhaled, clutching the front of his shirt.

Kun stared up at him, and found that he was looking at a Ten he’d never seen before: chest heaving, disheveled, skin drained of colour. Panic had constricted his pupils and his breath had turned warm enough to mist in the cold kitchen air. Their eyes met.

He couldn’t help it — he burst out laughing.

Ten switched from fear to outrage in a split second. ‘Hey! Shut up!’

'I just—' Kun wheezed, desperately trying to finish his sentence. 'Who _are_ you right now?'

The puppy patiently let herself be held while Kun entered another fit of laughter, shoulders shaking and knees bending like he was about to collapse onto the floor.

'Stop laughing,' Ten ordered. 

Kun was too far gone now, though; he was laughing so hard that he'd become silent, mouth open and eyes screwed shut. 

Ten humourlessly chucked a dishcloth at Kun's head. It slid down his face into the waiting maw of the dog, who promptly thrashed it around.

It shook Kun out of his hysterics somewhat. 

‘Okay, okay,’ he said, breathless. ‘Come down from there. I’ll hold onto the puppy.’

‘No.’

‘She won’t attack you, she just wants to play.’

‘Take it _outside_ and lock it _outside_ so that it is _outside_.’

‘Ten, this is a baby animal and you are a Vampire!’

‘So I can’t have preferences? Likes and incredibly strong dislikes?’

Kun snorted and shook his head. ‘“ _I’m a creature of the night.”’_

Ten scowled down at him from his perch. ‘What?’

‘“ _I don’t need a bodyguard,”’_ Kun recited in a too-high voice, apparently an imitation of Ten’s. He barely finished uttering the last word before breaking, laughter undercutting the remaining syllables.

Ten’s shoulders stiffened indignantly. ‘You won’t be laughing when that _thing_ grows to be as big as you. Keep it away from me.’

‘It’s only a dog, Ten.’

Out of nowhere, Dejun’s voice punctured the air with a triumphant ring. ‘Yes! Yes, it _is_ only a dog — you said it yourself!’

They both turned to the kitchen entryway, now crowded with Dejun, Sicheng and Kunhang. They still wore their coats, wet from the outside. Dejun was beaming, holding up his fists victoriously, while the other two looked a bit exasperated.

Kun re-examined the puppy in his arms. She was a bizarre-looking thing: fluffy and plump like a husky, but with a black-white-tan coat that he’d never seen on a similar breed before. She didn’t quite look like a pure breed of anything, but the set of her eyes and the shape of her muzzle were distinctly...lupine…

‘You’re kidding me, Dejun,’ Kun said, realisation dawning. ‘You brought your wolfdog here?’

Ten’s voice rose an octave. ‘That’s a _wolf?_ Great! That’s great! It’s going to get _huge_ and _vicious!’_

‘It’s not a wolf, Ten!’ Dejun said, bristling. ‘That’s my baby _Bella!_ Don’t undo all my hard work! Also, why are you standing on the counter? Kun said we’re not allowed to do that anymore.’ He looked to Kun with narrowed eyes. ‘Is he getting special privileges?’

‘The puppy just spooked him,’ Kun said, cheeks dimpling.

‘It did _not_ spook me!’ Ten snapped. Kun was surprised at how poorly he managed to lie about it. ‘I am up on this counter for unrelated reasons. Having said that, get rid of the dog. Thanks.’

This sparked a three-way argument between Kun, Dejun and Ten, which became very loud very quickly. Sicheng and Kunhang wordlessly walked over to the counter to help Ten down, offering their hands as leverage so he could hop off. Ten was shouting the entire time he gingerly stepped down, while the remaining two Visions shouted back. 

When Sicheng placed a gentle hand on Ten’s shoulder, the room quietened suddenly. He offered a comforting smile to Ten, who looked very disarmed by it. 

‘It’s good to see you’ve been having fun while we were away,’ he said.

‘Yeah!’ joined Kunhang. ‘We missed you! And sorry about the puppy — Dejun let her walk free in the woods, and next thing you know she’s run off. She’s too excitable.’

The puppy in question started writhing in Kun’s arms, letting out a little whine. A strangled noise came from Ten the second Kun moved to set the dog down on the floor, so he reconsidered. Dejun looked smug, as if seeing the animal in his leader’s arms was all the vindication he needed.

‘Dejun, take her and go somewhere where she won’t bother people,’ said Kun, handing Bella over. ‘We’re going to talk about this later.’

Dejun nodded, grinning, assured of his victory. He walked off towards the living room, nuzzling his furry baby. Kun had to hand it to him — seeing the puppy in person definitely changed things. She was very, very cute.

And she terrorised Ten, which only made her cuter.

Ten was currently smoothing his hair down in the reflective door of a microwave, face still tense with annoyance. There was a buzz from the lights that had just gone haywire.

‘What did you do to my lights?’ Kun huffed, staring up at the wanly flickering bulbs. ‘Were you messing with them?’

‘Don’t blame me for your manor’s busted wiring,’ Ten said petulantly. ‘This place is a million years old, like you, so of course it’s gonna suck.’ 

Kun’s good humour transmuted into agitation. ‘This is a modern kitchen.’

‘“ _This is a modern kitchen”,’_ Ten imitated in a sarcastic voice.

‘Dejun, bring the dog back—!’

Ten stomped his foot and glared. Kun glared back. Sicheng and Kunhang coughed uncomfortably.

Fighting down the urge to bicker more, Kun shoved past Ten to the counter, tidying the things he’d kicked around. To his surprise, Ten joined in to help him, though the sudden air of animosity still hung over them like knife-pointed icicles. Sicheng, bless him, took it upon himself to silently close the kitchen door and start wiping down the muddied floor with a cloth and his foot. 

Kunhang did what he did best — he broke the ice. ‘You know, I once got a concussion from a frog.’

Ten’s head snapped up, face scrunched in bemusement. Kun clapped a hand to his mouth to stop himself from hooting with laughter. 

‘Kunhang,’ said Kun as evenly as he could manage. ‘You don’t have to—’ 

‘My phobia was terrible. One jumped at me, and I jerked back so hard that my head smacked a wall.’

Ten tried to bite back a grin, but failed. 

Kunhang grinned back, touching the back of his head in memory. ‘Five stitches and a bald spot for three weeks.’

When Ten’s laugh tinkled throughout the kitchen, and his eyes turned into slender crescent moons of mirth, Kun wished he could give Kunhang the tightest hug in the entire world.

♔

To compromise, Kun ordered that Bella be kept to the eastern side of the manor, far away from the room Ten occupied. Bella was prone to yapping and pouncing whenever she crossed paths with him, and it amused the Visions very much when Ten would practically leap off of the ground like a startled cartoon cat. 

It tickled Kun to hear Ten’s voice as something other than a devious purr or a targeted jab. It was satisfying to peek behind the curtain of Ten’s constant performances for a crowd that Kun couldn't see.

He could only really enjoy the Bella-induced shenanigans for about a day, however, before an acute sense of dread started prickling at him. Yangyang and Xuxi still hadn’t returned, nor had they contacted him with any updates — and the air felt cold. Freezing. Unusually so, for this time of year. 

His intuition proved him right when he opened the door for Yangyang’s sudden arrival in the middle of the night, the young Vampire panting and covered in frost. 

‘You need to come see something, Kun,’ he’d said. ‘The lake under the bridge.’

And so they made their way there, trudging through snow that should’ve been thinner, the rest of the Visions (and Ten, and Bella) in tow. Yangyang was uncharacteristically silent the entire trip, which twisted at Kun’s stomach. Xuxi was waiting for them at their destination: the short bridge over a frozen lake; the border between Kun’s territory and that of Civitas. 

Xuxi’s wide eyes told Kun half the story, before he looked down at the lake, which told him the rest.

Death was frozen into the lake and its shores: over a dozen perished animals, from rats to birds, and even two stags. The stags in particular were a chilling picture of brutality: lifelessly locked at the as-yet-unshed antlers and covered in open wounds. A marbling of red and white decorated the ice near their corpses.

Plants and trees in the immediate area were withered and sickly; stricken or already killed by some kind of disease. Bella whimpered in Dejun’s arms, the only sound to come from anyone there, until Xuxi finally spoke.

‘What’s happening here, Kun?’

‘I don’t know,’ Kun lied. 

The Visions poked around the area, investigating carcasses with branches and speculating aloud. Kun observed Ten in particular, whose brow was furrowed in an expression that didn’t quite match the worry or disgust of the others. Kun thought he looked like he were trying to recall the name of a song he recognised but couldn’t fully remember. They caught each other’s gazes for a second before they both looked away.

It seemed neither was in the mood to know the thoughts of the other.

When Kun had separated himself for a few moments, Sicheng sidled up to him, looking ahead over the lake. He spoke under the chatter of the others, voice gritty and low from the cold.

‘It’s him, isn’t it?’

A rhetorical question. Sicheng already knew the answer.

‘I thought he’d take his time,’ he continued. ‘It’s still over a month before he said he’d arrive.’

‘He must already be in the country,’ Kun said, half to himself. ‘I doubt he’ll show up here before it’s time, though…’

Sicheng nodded. A few moments passed in amicable silence between them. 

‘Can I be honest?’ Sicheng asked.

‘You always are.’

‘It’s terrifying that he can do this. It’s terrifying that it happens whenever he comes close to you, even after all these decades. And I don’t think we should tell the others that this is the Viscount’s doing.’

Kun, despite feeling none of the confidence he was pretending to have, put a reassuring arm around Sicheng. ‘We’ll be fine, I promise. Older Vampires are just...well, they’re dramatic, and it shows in very strange ways.’

Sicheng didn’t crack a smile at the little joke. He just looked at Kun. ‘Violent ways.’

Kun swallowed thickly before waving his friend off.

‘If you need anything,’ said Sicheng seriously. ‘You can just tell me.’

Kun shook his head and chuckled, but it sounded forced even to himself. ‘Thank you, Sicheng, but there’s no need. I’m not scared of my own Sire.’ 

‘Your mother raised you too well. You’re bad at lying, even after all this time.’

He turned to look at Kun this time, whose fake smile never felt more transparent than when Sicheng was looking at it. Nothing went over that Vampire’s head, especially not Kun’s stoicism. 

Kun nudged him with an elbow, and Sicheng accommodated it, bending like a reed. 

‘I’m actually quite good at lying, thanks,’ Kun said. ‘Ten still thinks I’m a nice guy, after all.’

Sicheng smiled with all his teeth. ‘You _are_ a nice guy, stupid. We all think so.’ 

Dejun wailed something about Bella in the background, and Ten groaned. The other three began loudly complaining about the cold.

Sicheng spoke again. ‘Whatever he wants, Kun, the Visions will always be on _your_ side. The Viscount isn’t our leader; you are.’

Kun nodded his acknowledgement.

When Sicheng walked off to rescue Ten from a rising rowdiness in the Visions, Kun was finally left without a comforting distraction. A pounding started in his head, a pain that beat against him like a drum of war. As the pain swelled, so did dread, and it was hard for him to pay attention to anything else.

His Sire drew closer to him with every passing day, and it sickened even the earth around Kun’s manor.

It was going to be a long few weeks.

‘Let’s head back,’ he announced to the others after a few moments. ‘We can talk about this in front of a fireplace.’

♔

Dejun’s tinfoil hat was firmly on his head by the time they’d all settled around the dining table.

‘I am _telling_ you,’ he said, leaning forward with impassioned eyes. He would have looked more imposing if Bella weren’t in his lap, licking his knuckles. ‘It’s Civitas. They are up to something; dabbling in dark magics or forbidden science.’

‘That doesn’t sound very Taeyong,’ Sicheng countered.

‘Cold ambition will warp the minds of even the most contemporary Vampires,’ replied Dejun. Bella started wiggling out of his grasp.

‘Is he always like this?’ asked Ten. Everyone nodded.

‘It could be any number of things,’ Kun said. ‘Our world is that of the supernatural, after all. Witches, werewolves...uh...harpies…’

Xuxi sat up in surprise. ‘You’re making that last one up.’

‘Well, I can’t prove they’re _not_ real. Anyway—’

‘Is it your Sire or something?’ asked Yangyang.

It took everything for Kun to react naturally — curse Yangyang for being so sharp.

‘Doubtful,’ he replied coolly. ‘It’s not in his interests to...well, _vandalize_ my territory during his visit.’

‘But from what I’ve, like, heard about the V—’ 

‘Yangyang,’ Sicheng interrupted gently, with a poke to Yangyang’s side. Kun wanted to cry from gratitude for Sicheng’s good timing. ‘Bella’s chewing your laces.’

Yangyang yelped and jumped out of his seat. A bit of regularly-scheduled chaos ensued for a few seconds while Kun watched on patiently. Ten curled his knees up for fear of the wayward puppy’s nibbles.

When they’d settled down again, Bella safely in Dejun’s lap, Kun tried to conclude the discussion. All of a sudden he was aware of his own discomfort with Ten potentially knowing who his Sire was — the Viscount didn’t exactly have a good reputation, and he didn’t need Ten making any more snap judgements about Kun if he knew. He’d rather that the Vampire under his Sanctuary got to know him from scratch, without all the...historical background.

‘Whatever the cause could be,’ he began. ‘Just let me worry about it — it’s _my_ problem, not any of yours, okay? If it turns out to be one of our “natural enemies”, as they say, it shouldn’t be difficult for us to take care of it. So don’t stress about it, especially you, Yangyang.’

Yangyang hummed, unconvinced.

‘You know,’ Dejun said. ‘I really didn’t expect this much harassment from other creatures when I became a Vamp.’

‘Man, it’s rough being what we are,’ Kunhang mused. 'Humans fear us, witches don’t like us, werewolves _hate_ us—’

Xuxi whistled his vehement agreement.

‘—and then we even have beef between each other! Why does it feel like we have nothing _but_ natural enemies? Why can’t we have some natural pals?’

Dejun wrapped two loving arms around his puppy. ‘Bella’s my natural pal.’

Bella clamped her needle teeth around Dejun’s forearm and went to town.

‘Ouch! Bella, stop it! Stop!’

Ten crossed his arms, eyebrows raised skeptically. Kun already knew he was about to become vexed, so he steeled himself by meeting Ten’s gaze head-on.

‘I hope your little diet won’t make you too weak to handle things,’ said Ten. ‘Would hate to see us all killed.’

Everyone around the table visibly shifted from the change in atmosphere.

‘Heeey, now,’ Kunhang singsonged nervously. 

Kun stood and leaned forward, placing his palms against the tabletop. ‘It’s like I’ve always said, Ten. If you don’t like how your Lord _du jour_ does things, you can leave. Aren’t you known for that?’

Ten’s eye might have twitched. ‘I might do just that if your territory continues to devolve into a shitshow.’

Xuxi moved to get up, posturing for a fight. Without looking at him, Kun placed a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back into his seat. 

‘Ten’s concerns are valid,’ said Kun, audaciously meeting Ten’s glare with a patient smile. ‘And they come from a place of love and care. Right?’

‘Right,’ replied Ten. It was almost convincing.

‘Good.’

‘Great.’

Vampire intuition was a blessing at times — like now, for instance, when all the Visions scuttled out of their seats and left the room without being asked, leaving Kun and Ten behind in the suffocating atmosphere of their own making.

Kun didn’t break eye contact the entire time he rounded the table, right up until he was leaning against the tabletop in front of Ten, staring down.

‘Why is this happening, Ten?’ Kun asked. ‘We were fine just moments ago — why are you challenging me like this?’ 

Ten was impassive. ‘You have a problem on your hands, _my Lord._ I can’t have a say?’

‘Of course you can,’ Kun replied sincerely. ‘But this is something else. It’s like you’re compelled to agitate me. Are you expecting me to snap at you?’

'We get on each other’s nerves. What else is new?’

‘No, but—’ Kun shook his head, trying to think with his head and not his temper. ‘ _Why_? Do you hate me?’ 

Ten’s gaze wavered a split second.

‘Ten...if you don’t hate me then what—’ 

‘Some people just aren’t meant to get along,’ Ten said coldly. ‘I came to you for Sanctuary, not friendship, so don’t try to make this what it’s not.’

Kun frowned. ‘That’s not what I’m doing.’

‘Sure.’

Ten was incredibly stubborn, Kun realised. He was the “new guy” among decades-old friends, in an unfamiliar home, in a winter that was coming on too early. Knowing what little he knew of him, Kun surmised that Ten would sooner die than admit that he was on the back foot in any situation — and if that meant using Kun as a dartboard for his own insecurities, then so be it. Kun had been used for worse things, by worse people.

He exhaled, and tried a different approach.

‘You’re right,’ he said, and Ten cocked his head in surprise. ‘Things are a bit of a shitshow. But I mean it when I say that it’s nothing you should worry about. I’ve been in this game a long time, and I know how to play it — yes, I know you don’t believe that, because cashmere is my fabric of choice and my ears aren’t pierced, which supposedly takes away from my Vampiric credit, but I’m asking you to trust me. Just until you’re ready to leave, okay? I can handle what comes our way while you’re under Sanctuary.’

Ten considered this for a long time before he responded. Kun waited patiently. 

‘You’re way too trusting,’ he simply said.

‘The babies like you a lot,’ replied Kun, shrugging. ‘That’s a good enough gauge for me.’

He held out a hand to Ten, hoping for a handshake. Ten eyed it dubiously, like it was venomous. Eventually, he reached out and shook it, looking up at the Vampire Lord.

‘Kun,’ said Ten sternly. ‘You’re going to take me out to feed tonight.’

‘Well, that was quick...’

‘And it better be somewhere _nice,_ with _interesting_ people.’

Kun exhaled deeply. ‘What does it matter if someone’s interesting or not? It’s all just blood!’

‘To an unrefined palate, yes.’

‘That’s a novel way of saying that you’re childishly picky.’

Ten stuck his tongue out at him. Kun couldn’t help it — relief flooded him at the sight. This was normal, this was playful, this was low-stakes; the kind of argument he was happy to have with him. He tipped his head back to look at the ceiling as he thought about it. _Somewhere nice with interesting people…_

He was probably going to regret this, but he thought of an idea anyway. He hoped he’d correctly gauged what Ten’s definition of “nice and interesting” was.

‘Hey,’ he hazarded. ‘What are your thoughts on gangsters?’

The delighted grin that broke out across Ten’s face was answer enough.

‘All right, then. Dress up, it’s a fancy place.’ 

Their hands were linked in the handshake for the entire conversation, which Kun found quite curious.

♔

The place didn’t _look_ nearly as unsavoury as it was. In fact, the glitz and opulence of the nightclub was inversely proportional to the morality of those who patronised it, and Kun explained this to a fascinated Ten. It was called _Midnight_ , and the wet streets outside its entrance were covered in the melted reflections of its red-and-green neon sign. 

A perk of Vampirism was the lack of queues, since a mesmerising word here and there could get you through any entrance, including VIP. Kun felt a bit giddy guiding Ten through the exclusive back gate, past several bouncers double their sizes — he rarely frequented places like this nowadays, and the deep bass pounding through the walls and floors tugged at something dangerous within Kun. It certainly suited Ten to be here, but Kun felt unmoored — and somehow, this was exciting. He fidgeted with his silk tie, an accessory he’d rarely worn since the 1940s, but the nerves felt _good_ rather than bad.

He scolded himself. He did _not_ want to get into the habit of enjoying these veritable dens of sin. When they reached the main area of the club, he looked up at the cordoned-off second floor, and remembered exactly why he didn’t like this place: a bevy of suited people milled about up there, the air painted with swirls of cigar smoke; a dozen false kings sitting on corrupted thrones, dealing in dark things.

‘Are those the villains of society that you promised me?’ asked Ten, right against his ear to be heard over the music.

‘Yes,’ replied Kun. ‘If you get in trouble with them, do _not_ come crying to me.’ 

He felt Ten’s laugh come out as a breath against his neck.

‘But be careful, please,’ Kun added. 

_‘Careful_ is for humans,’ said Ten. He poked Kun in the cheek, right where his dimple lived. ‘Now buy me a drink, rich boy.’

Kun’s sigh was lost in the noise, but he had no reason to say no. It might be more bearable at the bar, where sweaty bodies didn’t press on them from all sides. He took Ten’s hand and guided it to the back of his blazer, where he could grab on and follow him through the crowd — anything else, and Kun was certain he’d lose him in the glitter.

Kun’s senses couldn’t help but pick out everything going on, even as he tried to mind his own business: people slipping colourful pills onto their tongues, couples embracing immodestly, tattooed tough guys resting their hands against poorly-concealed holsters at their hips. _The bouncers here are worthless,_ Kun thought, then chided himself for thinking like a puritan. This was just the reality of the “underground”, and shady people were going to exist no matter what anyone did. Might as well let them exist here together, in mutual endangerment.

Ten enthusiastically hailed a bartender as soon as they got there, and quickly obtained a tall, dark-coloured drink. Kun could smell it from a distance — it was cloyingly sweet, and crystallised inside his nose even as he paid for it. He considered ordering something himself, but wondered if wine would come across too boring...

Out of the blue, a distantly familiar sensation pinged in Kun’s mind. He looked up and around suddenly, looking very much like an alert dog. He had trouble pinpointing it with his underused intuitive sense, and desperately scanned the crowd of patrons for a clue.

He noticed his companion’s curious gaze on him. 

‘What’s up?’ Ten asked.

‘I’m not sure,’ Kun admitted. ‘It kind of feels like…’

At that moment, a whiskey tumbler slid towards Kun across the counter at speed, landing neatly in Kun’s resting hand. Both of them shot their gazes to the source: a young man at the far end of the bar, beaming with a friendly smile.

Kun spoke, mostly to himself. ‘Chenle?’ 

Chenle bobbed into the crowd, disappearing for a few seconds before popping back out beside them. He greeted Ten with a polite nod, and Kun with a hard jab to the ribs.

‘So skinny!’ he whined with the timbre of a nagging auntie. ‘They don’t feed you at home or what?’

Kun gently pried his hands away, laughing but wound up with nerves. He should be happy to see him again, but…

‘Loosen up, old man,’ Chenle said, giving Kun a final poke to the cheek. ‘You’re the one giving _me_ a headache by being here. Since when do you visit clubs like this?’ 

By way of an answer, Kun nodded to Ten, who was observing Chenle very closely. 

Ten went first. ‘I’m Kun’s new friend. Call me Ten.’

Chenle squeezed between them to lean against the counter, staring Ten right in his face. Kun felt very pushed out, suddenly.

‘I’m Kun’s old friend,’ said Chenle, cheek resting on his hand. ‘Call me your competition.’

Kun huffed. ‘Chenle, please.’

But he found that Ten was smirking back at him, seemingly impressed at the audacity of it.

‘How did you meet Lord Qian?’ Ten asked, eyes twinkling. 

Kun put a hand on Chenle’s arm, but the younger Vampire only waved him off reassuringly. Perhaps he would spare Ten the truth…

‘Through a friend of a friend of a client. I was told I just “had to meet the most boring Vampire alive”, and when I did—’ he gestured pleasantly to Kun. Ten cackled.

_Thank God,_ Kun thought. 

Chenle gave Ten the once-over. ‘So you’re Kun’s age, right?’ 

Kun scoffed. ‘I think he’s more in _your_ age range.’

‘Oh, did he tell you that?’ Chenle answered, head tilted in Kun’s direction but still looking at Ten. A signature smugness wafted off of him. He thought about the question for a second, while Ten stood in marked silence — come to think of it, he hadn’t _actually_ asked Ten his age. He’d just...assumed.

Kun turned to Ten with a quickness. ‘When were you born?’

Ten held eye contact with Chenle for a few seconds, the two of them communicating something inscrutable to Kun. Then Ten answered, ‘Seventeen-ninety-six.’ 

‘The exact same year?!’ cried Kun. ‘You called _me_ a million years old!’

Chenle nodded at Ten. ‘That sounds about right. I know an antique when I see one.’ He turned to Kun, placing a brotherly hand on his shoulder while the Lord blinked rapidly to process the information. ‘It’s like I always used to tell you: never assume anything! Knowledge is power.’

Ten interjected. ‘How did you guess?’

‘I’m clairvoyant,’ Chenle answered simply, tapping his temple with a forefinger. Ten’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded anyway. 

Kun tried to change the subject. ‘Chenle, I had no idea you still worked here.’

Chenle looked at him with confusion. ‘Why would I work anywhere else? The riches are plenty. The women are beautiful, the men are stupid as all hell, and everyone needs what I offer.’

‘And what is it that you offer?’ asked Ten.

‘Information.’

‘That’s it?’

Chenle’s downturned smile was boyishly confident. ‘Ask me anything about anyone.’

‘All right. Who runs this place and what’s his drink of choice?’

Chenle held out his hand, palm up. ‘That’ll be twenty grand.’

_‘Excuse me?’_

‘I don’t do favours, pretty boy. Here’s my card — ask Kun to spot you the cash if you _actually_ need something, ‘kay?’

While slipping a little white business card out of his inner pocket and into Ten’s front pocket, Chenle grabbed Kun’s newly-gifted tumbler of whiskey and downed the whole thing at once. He hissed with satisfaction at the burn. ‘I’d have slid a wine glass Kun’s way but the centre of gravity would’ve been all wrong. And Mister Ten — put all your drinks on my tab. Consider it a gift for being well met.’

Oh,’ Ten said, surprised. ‘Thanks.’ 

‘I’ll see you around, Lord Qian! Good to see you!’ He winked at the two of them, reached up to ruffle Kun’s carefully-styled hair, then retreated into the crowd. Just before he could be absorbed into the throng of people, he turned around once more and cupped his hands around his mouth to yell something.

‘Oh, and he’s lying to you, by the way!’ Then he disappeared.

There was a pause while the two of them blinked. 

‘Who was he talking to?’ asked Ten.

‘I’m not sure. Probably me, right?’

‘Could swear he was looking at me.’

‘Mmm, I don’t think so.’

They eyed each other suspiciously for a few seconds.

‘Nice guy, that Chenle,’ Ten finally said, sipping his drink.

Kun got to fixing his hair in the mirror behind the bar. ‘Don’t be fooled. He just wants your business. The more people in his little “information network” the better.’

‘You have some very interesting friends.’

‘I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t say I’m his friend,’ Kun said. ‘Chenle is nobody’s friend — but he’s nobody’s enemy either, and that’s what’s best for his line of work.’

Ten considered this, smirking. ‘Nah, I think he rather liked me, actually.’

Kun huffed. ‘Probably. How do you just get along with _everyone_ right away?’

‘You mean except you?’ he replied, stirring his cocktail with the straw.

‘Precisely. You somehow rub me the wrong way.’

Ten’s voice became playful. ‘How should I rub you the right way, then?’ 

Kun glared at him. ‘By not saying shit like that, for a start.’

Ten grinned, straw between his teeth. Under the guise of a prolonged glare, Kun took in the sight: the line of his teeth dutifully followed the upward curve of his mouth. His top lip made a perfect bow shape, and the whole thing sparkled with prettiness and deviousness in equal measure. It was especially striking like this, in a hot crowd of sinful festivity — something about these places created an electricity within Ten, which Kun could swear he felt crackling across his skin whenever he came close.

He looked away, tutting. _Annoying,_ he thought.

‘Kun,’ Ten suddenly said, more serious. ‘Was Chenle fucking with me or is he really clairvoyant? Is that his super special little Vampire gift?’ 

Kun gave a non-committal shake of his head. ‘Yes and no. He definitely has a gift, but it’s his _memory_ . He was a sharp and calculating kid to begin with, but once he was turned, he just became…’ Kun breathed out, trying to find a way to describe the boy’s genius. ‘He can recite books from memory after reading them once, re-draw maps in minute detail, recall faces and voices like they were nothing but simple shapes and one-note sounds. And he’s so _smart —_ he pieces information together in his mind in such a way that he may as well be clairvoyant. His mind is exceptionally valuable, and he charges accordingly. I think “Knowledge Broker” is the term. Popular among criminals, of course.’ 

Ten nodded silently, considering.

Kun realised something belatedly. ‘Ten, are you really going to try drink from the boss of this place? I think he’s called “Key”, or something. You know he’s...well, a horrible, terrible murderer, right?

Ten rolled his eyes like Kun was asking stupid questions. ‘Of course I am. Why settle for anything less? And I love a challenge. I’ll make my way to that elusive second floor soon enough and look for my target there. Do you know what he looks like?'

‘No, but…’ Kun wrapped a hand around Ten’s wrist, somewhat pleadingly. ‘Li Yongqin—’

‘I’m gonna go dance.’ 

Ten slipped out of Kun’s grasp and into the crowd. Kun watched how easy it was for him to slip into the music, body rolling and swaying in perfect time, and in perfect shapes. It didn’t take long before Ten’s arm was slipping around a stranger’s waist, too. Everything about him, slippery and unknowable and new, like he wore a different skin every day and Kun had to learn it all afresh. Ten belonged in that crowd, but he also didn’t — he was above it all; a shard of divinity glittering among rubble. Icarus at the apex of his flight. 

He stopped watching Ten and watched anyone else instead. After a while — it could’ve been hours, for all he knew — the nauseating onset of hunger was quick to afflict Kun. It always got bad in crowds, and the sickly memory of the masquerade ball made him grimace to himself. If he didn’t feed tonight, he was going to be back there.

There was no avoiding it. No more excuses. No more _rats._ Kun started scanning the club with intent.

He surprised himself with how long it was taking. Normally, any number of people in here were his “type” — but somehow he just wasn’t seeing anyone he liked. His own adage of _it’s all just blood_ rang weakly in his own ears. 

Mercifully, he met someone’s focused eyes from across this corner of the club — eyes that seemed very much _interested._ That was half the work done, and all Kun had to do was introduce himself, get flirtatious, then promise them a little bit of alone time somewhere dark and quiet.

The man got up to walk over to him. He was older in appearance, perhaps in his late thirties, and dressed to the nines. He seemed to be alone, and the only flashy thing about him was his blazingly expensive watch. Kun had a blazingly expensive watch of his own — perhaps he could start the conversation with that and go from there. 

It barely took ten minutes of conversation. The man played no games, and was quick to pull Kun in close by tugging at his tie. With a husky suggestion, Kun agreed to follow him somewhere “more private, where we can hear each other better”, and it was only when they reached the foot of the metal staircase to the second floor that Kun’s intuition pinged in alarm.

Humans never alarmed him. Dangerous humans, however, were at least worth looking twice at. 

On another day, he may have reconsidered following a gangster to his den just for a little bit of blood. On this night, though, he was starving so much that it hurt.

The nameless henchman of a gang could probably handle a bit of blood loss, right? Kun could control himself well enough. 

Upstairs, in the smoky haze of a floor populated by terrible people, the two of them were given a wide berth thanks to Kun’s eldritch influence. They passed the private booths with curtains one could draw for privacy, which was odd. They went through a black-painted door with a passcode lock, which was also odd. They entered a room which looked much like an office that someone incredibly rich would use, which was the oddest thing of all. Kun was still processing whether the flags he was seeing were red or not, even as he pushed the human against the wall and hooked his fingers into his belt loops.

_Who’s office is this? Who is this man? Am I being an idiot?_

The man smiled like he’d just won a prize by cheating. He put a hand around Kun’s neck and dug his fingers in, hard.

‘Mr Qian,’ he began, all traces of dreamlike desire gone from his voice. ‘Nice name for someone with money, isn’t it?’

Kun never told him his name. He swallowed thickly. _Yep, I’m an idiot._

The wide berth that everyone gave them wasn’t because of Kun at all. An absurd thought rose up in his mind — Ten would be furious that Kun had found the infamous Key first. By unfortunate accident, no less.

‘I like men with money,’ said Key. ‘They pay my bills. Let’s talk about how you can join the party, hmm?’

‘You should let go of me,’ Kun rasped. 

He felt something cold and sharp prick into his belly. 

‘I make the rules here, Mr Qian. Move in a way I don’t like, and—’ he dug the point of the knife in a little, enough to shallowly break the skin. ‘You lose more than just a few million bucks.’

Kun’s knuckles were white. He spoke, weaving every last bit of control he had into his words, though the fibres of his power felt wild and fraying at the ends. ‘You’re going to let me leave.’

Weak. Too weak. Kun should’ve realised he was too weak to mesmerise a strong-willed sociopath at the top of the criminal food chain — his powers were dulled and slow, so very slow, _because I’m so hungry, and this little bastard is asking for it, isn’t he?_

Key curled Kun’s tie into his hand, pulling taut so that his collar constricted around his neck. ‘Come,’ he ordered darkly. ‘Let’s do business.’

Every despicable instinct Kun ever had, suddenly lighting up one-by-one. 

_He doesn’t know who he’s talking to._

He couldn’t stop it: fangs fully extended now, Kun could only glimpse how the human’s eyes widened in surprise, and then aggression — twisting the knife right into Kun’s abdomen at the sight of the transformation. A killer’s instinct was evidently something they shared.

Kun was too far gone for pain to help now — it only drove his mouth down, down, to rip through fabric and flesh at the neck.

The human scrabbled at his back desperately, any fighting words he may have had only gurgling in his throat. His blood didn’t taste sweet to Kun this time; but it was blood, and he was about to take as much of it as he wanted. _It’s all just blood._

The mob boss removed the knife and thrust it in again, desperate. It hurt, but not that much. Kun kept going. _It’s all just blood._

Strength started to leave his prey, the twisting and struggling becoming weak and useless. Redness spread across Kun’s chin and shirt and hands. _It’s all just blood._

_‘To an unrefined palate, yes.’_

Kun paused. Of all the times to hear Ten’s voice in his head.

Ten’s voice? Ten’s…

‘—going on? Kun?’

Kun looked up and towards the door, where someone stood. A leather jacket and eyes like a cat.

A blade clattered to the floor. The human’s weight suddenly felt dead in his arms. Reality was a red and bitter stain across his front. He looked back at the person dying in his grip — moist, shallow breaths and eyes rolled back — and snapped out of it.

Or rather, snapped _into_ it — changing his inner music to something colder, more level, and able to handle a crisis. He felt outside of himself; a conductor guiding his body from on high.

‘Close the door,’ he instructed Ten. He propped Key into a sitting position, pressing his wound firmly with one hand while hastily removing his blazer. In a moment he’d ripped it apart, the grey fabric darkening as he pressed it to his neck. It didn’t absorb well, so he tried his sweater next. The wound was large and messy, and refusing to close. Kun compartmentalised the question of why his venom wasn’t clotting like usual.

Ten was now crouched on the floor beside him, but Kun didn’t bother to look at his reaction. He just gave more instructions: _hold this here, tie this like that, keep him upright_ —

‘Kun,’ Ten said evenly. ‘What are we gonna do?’

Kun lifted Key, now hemorrhaging in a more manageable way. He distantly noted how effortless it felt to lift a grown man all of a sudden. 

‘Hospital,’ he said flatly. 

‘How the hell—’ 

Kun swept his eyes around, instinct telling him exactly where to look. ‘They always have a back door.’

Kun strode right to a liquor cabinet and used his leg to push it aside. It was effortless. Glass bottles clattered within. As he suspected, a well-concealed emergency exit lay behind it. 

Without prompting, Ten strode up to it and lay his hand over the handle. He twisted and it flew open with a heavy thud against the wall of the hallway beyond. Kun strode through immediately, compartmentalising yet another question: how did Ten open a locked door in an instant?

Ten’s voice was clipped and urgent. ‘There will _definitely_ be cronies guarding the other end of this. I can’t charm a dozen guys at once, not to mention we don’t have a car—’

‘We’re fine,’ said Kun calmly. He _was_ calm. There was no other way he could afford to be.

They reached another door, which Ten hesitated before opening — when he did, he was proven right: a gaggle of large, suited men who all turned to look at the two of them at the same time. Their eyes went straight to the limp, bloodied body of their boss, then up to Kun’s face. They all got up at once, faces contorting into aggression, reaching for sidearms. Kun sensed Ten tense up next to him, muscles ready to spring and flee.

‘Move aside,’ Kun ordered the men surrounding them. 

Ten exhaled sharply when each and every human’s body snapped to attention, rigid with sudden obedience.

It was like riding a bicycle. Driving a car. Tuning a piano. A muscle long-disused, but growing in strength now that he was awash in fresh human blood — within and without. 

The henchmen did as they were told. Kun stopped in front of one of them and looked him right in his face. 

‘Give my associate your car keys,’ he said. The man did so instantly.

Ten pressed the button and some lights lit up in the parking lot below them. Kun had forgotten how easy things could be.

He tasted iron on his tongue, still.

♔

Kun drove fast, but he was controlled and precise. The radio was silent and so was Ten, in the back with an unconscious man across his lap.

‘Kun,’ he said. ‘He’s not going to make it.’

Kun turned his head just slightly, keeping his eyes on the road. ‘You want me to give up?’

‘You should,’ replied Ten.

He turned fully away again. ‘Too bad. I make the rules here.’

♔

They left the car running as they carried Kun’s victim directly into reception. Kun didn’t need to call for help; Ten was shouting out as soon as the automatic doors slid open.

There was a flurry of activity, then: hospital staff converged on them like bees around a hive, until a gurney appeared and the injured man was lifted out of Kun’s arms. Then he was wheeled away, and was no longer the Vampire Lord’s problem. 

A nurse accompanied by three security guards stopped him when he made for the exit, Ten in tow. Kun, from somewhere outside himself, remembered that he was covered in dried blood from mouth to chest.

‘Sir, I can’t let you leave until—’ 

‘You can,’ Kun said. ‘And you will.’

She closed her mouth. Her entourage of hospital guards did not press closer. Countless other heads that were curiously watching them suddenly looked away at the same time, all interest lost, purely at the behest of Kun’s voice. 

‘Treat him,’ he continued. ‘You will forget who brought him in, and you will make no effort to find out.’

The nurse did a shallow bow, understanding her orders, then scurried away. Kun hated the nothingness behind her eyes. He hated that he could do that to someone.

He also hated the way Ten was looking at him now, with an expression that was as readable as a cryptogram. He was probably meeting all of Ten’s expectations as a tyrant.

What he hated most of all, though, was how undeniably _good_ he felt. He took more blood than he was supposed to, his clothes were damp and scarlet, and his body was _singing_ with it — even as a man lay dying in the triage.

♔

It didn’t matter to Kun that he was freezing — his body didn’t care to shiver, anyway. He walked, straight-backed, out into the hospital parking and found a set of quiet stairs to sit on. Ten sat next to him, jacket pulled tight around him.

The motion of sitting down seemed to yank Kun’s wayward consciousness back into its body, like a child tugging a balloon sharply downward. The crisis was over, the logical brain had done its job — and now he could slump forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands raking through his hair roughly. 

He felt Ten’s penetrating gaze on him, so he simply waited for the criticisms to flood in.

‘I don’t know why you bothered,’ said Ten after a while. ‘He’s a bad guy. His dying would’ve done the world a favour.’

Kun’s exhale was a shuddering thing. ‘It’s not up to me. I can’t play God like that.’

‘Oh, come on,’ said Ten, rolling his eyes. ‘Don’t feel sorry for a mobster. He’s an extortionist, a trafficker, a killer, a—’

Kun looked up and into Ten’s eyes. ‘A person. A dangerous, terrible one, sure — but he would always be weaker than me. I would’ve been using my power over a human to—’

Ten smacked Kun on the arm. Kun clicked his tongue in displeasure instinctively.

‘Fuck your moral high ground,’ said Ten. ‘That guy sucked ass and he got what he deserved. And what did _we_ get for helping him? Blood all over our clothes.’

Kun looked down at himself. He pinched the front of his shirt, reddish-brown all over in a pattern of violent streaks and blotches. His tie, too, was darkened almost to black. A canvas where he'd painted his monstrousness, his ugliness, his foulness.

Ten let a few hard, solemn moments pass — watching Kun inspecting himself — before he spoke again.

'So how judgy are your dry cleaners?'

Kun laughed. He barked it out, uncontrolled, knowing it came from some kind of hysteria that he was suppressing. At the same time, a peculiar feeling rose up through him: something thick and fizzy and overpowering —

— and it commanded him to sob.

He put his hands to his mouth, trying to choke it back, but to no avail.

'I'm sorry, I—' Kun attempted, laughing with a wetness in his throat. 'That was _funny,_ so I don't know why I'm—'

Tears welled in his eyes and overflowed. His shoulders shook from giggles and from distress, and he could not stop. It felt suffocating, the weight of his emotional indecision: should he laugh? Should he wail until he was empty of everything he’d ever felt? He started apologizing again, hot with the embarrassment of having Ten witness this whole thing.

Ten's hand landed gently, hesitantly, on Kun's back. 

'It's shock,' said Ten. 'It’s so stupidly _human_.'

There wasn't a trace of heat in his voice. In fact, Kun could hear the smile in it.

He gave himself a few moments to compose himself.

Through his hands, he asked Ten: 'Why are you still here?'

'Rude.'

'No, I just mean...why stay after seeing me like this? I'm clearly not someone who should be giving sanctuary. You can’t rely on me for protection — I’m a mess. No better than a ghoul.'

Ten reached up and smoothed hair out of Kun’s face; strands that were stuck there with blood and sweat.

'True,’ he answered. ‘You look pathetic.'

The contrast between word and gesture drew a sharp laugh from Kun.

‘But you’re exaggerating,’ continued Ten. ‘You’re not a “mess”. These things happen.’

He slid his hand down Kun’s side, and gently brushed his fingers over the wound in Kun’s belly. It was already healed shut; only a dark red welt against stained skin. Kun stiffened.

Ten’s voice was so low that it creaked in places. ‘He attacked you first, didn’t he?’

‘It doesn’t matter who attacked who first—’

Ten pried Kun’s fingers away from his face, and looked at him dead-on. ‘It does matter. You were protecting yourself.’

Kun swallowed. ‘Let’s just forget about it. I’m going to call a cab.’

They sat in silence while they waited, watching lights twinkle in the half-frozen puddles across the parking lot. A siren blared somewhere before disappearing. The _whoosh_ of distant traffic was quiet enough to be soothing. 

Ten didn’t get it — he was never going to, because Kun made the choice not to explain it. There wasn’t room for _“these things happen”_ in Kun’s life. There was no need to maim — _or kill, if things don’t go well in that emergency room —_ a human being when he could charm or hypnotize or simply _run._ Base instincts were not something Kun could afford to give in to anymore.

He wondered about what Chenle had said. Who, indeed, was lying to whom?

♔

_Johnny wrapped his arms around Kun from behind, nuzzling into his hair._

_‘You’ve been avoiding me,’ he said. The pout could be heard in his voice._

_Kun didn’t move out of his embrace, but didn’t lean back into it either. ‘I’ve had a lot on my mind. Sorry.’_

_‘A lot, huh? Can’t spare any room for thoughts of me?’ He kissed the crown of Kun’s head._

_It might have made Kun’s heart clench once upon a time, to hear the affection in Johnny’s voice. Now, though, it was the glaze around a candied fruit: sweetness suffocating sweetness, which rotted Kun’s teeth every time he bit into it._

_‘You’re hungry,’ Johnny mumbled against Kun’s cranium, like the plea could then reach his brain directly. ‘You’re thin. You’re tired. You care about such dumb things, Kun.’_

_‘Stop.’_

_‘They don’t suffer, you know that. Their last moments are painless. It feels good for them.’_

_‘I said stop.’_

_‘What will you drink all your life?’_

_‘There are other ways.’_

_‘Just do it our way, love. The way we’re made for.’ Johnny brushed his lips along the shell of Kun’s ear._

_Kun unwrapped the taller Vampire’s arms from around his waist and stepped away._

_Johnny’s voice became just a little bit harder. ‘Are you going to leave?’_

_He’d meant that in a few different ways, but Kun had the same answer for all of them. He didn’t give his answer then, though — he gave it a few months later, and Johnny took it the worst. Taeyong had to pry the two apart before they killed each other._

_Kun spent months afterwards wondering if Johnny’s wounds had healed as slowly as Kun’s — but probably not. Johnny was stronger, and faster, and ripped his heartbreak into Kun’s chest and abdomen and face, while Kun could only leave bloodied teeth marks at the throat before being dragged away by his erstwhile Lord._

_If Taeyong didn’t fear the Viscount’s wrath as much as he did, he’d likely have let Johnny end him then and there._

_The Viscount sent Kun a short letter after the news spread:_

_‘I heard about the altercation between you and one of Taeyong's favourites. I am told he left great gashes in you, all over the place, like some sort of enraged beast. I am also told that you left but one mark on him: an aborted bite at the jugular._

_Your instincts make me proud. You went right for the kill, didn't you?_

_Next time, do not hesitate._

_All my love.'_

♔

A few days passed. 

Kun called Chenle once to find out about Key. The gang leader was stable, and predictably amnesic. He was barely able to speak but he stubbornly tried, anyway. He ate none of the hospital food and had meals smuggled in by his cronies.

Kun had to marvel at the sort of detail that Chenle could acquire.

Ten didn’t ask to go out again, but didn’t complain either. In fact, he didn’t even complain about Bella — though he definitely still avoided her. It was peaceful in the manor. Warm. The Visions made the air feel light, and made Kun feel loved — so much that he almost believed he was loveable.

One evening, his phone pinged with a text message, which he read over and over and over.

_I request a Parley._

_Meet me at the border bridge, over that fetching little lake. I’ll be alone, so I’d appreciate it if you were too. Pretty please?_

_Shouldn’t take long, but dress warmly~_

_\- Your old friend, LTY_

Kun looked for his warmest coat, told everyone he needed to take care of _Qian & Sons _business, and took the long, cold walk to the lake.

Only two weeks left of Ten’s Sanctuary — Lord Lee was bound to say something eventually, and the halfway point seemed like the right time. Honestly, Kun should have expected it.

It pays to know your rivals well.

♔

The stag corpses were still there at the shore of the lake, though mostly concealed by a layer of snow. The lake was the black, bottomless landmark between two territories, each lorded over by a different Vampire, and Kun hated to be around it. The dark figure of a man waited right at the centre of the footbridge that crossed the water, so Kun met him there.

The Lord of Civitas stood before him in a fine three-piece suit and a thick, expensive coat that was becoming dusted with tiny snowflakes. His large, dark eyes stood stark against his skin and hair, which were as white as the wintery landscape that surrounded them. Kun found that Taeyong’s face was fascinating — some sort of smile always played around his eyes and lips, except for when it didn’t, and that’s when everyone’s spines straightened up without them really realising. 

Kun nodded to the formal get up. ‘Going somewhere?’

Taeyong winked and grinned, eyes crinkling with genuine playfulness. ‘You know I’m always going places.’

‘Don’t let me keep you, then,’ replied Kun. ‘What’s this Parley for, exactly?’

‘We’ll get to it, Mr Impatience,’ Taeyong huffed. ‘Here I was, hoping for a bit of chit-chat with an old friend…’

‘Then maybe I misunderstand our relationship, Lord Lee.’

Taeyong sighed and looked around at the lake and surrounding trees, pouting in faux disappointment. The scarf around his neck shifted just slightly at the motion, and that’s when Kun noticed it: the thick ropy web of scars peeking out, reaching up from under his collar to spread across his neck. The longest scar reached all the way to Taeyong’s jaw, stopping just under the earlobe.

Kun’s breath hitched — Vampires don’t scar like that. Vampire Lords _definitely_ don’t scar like that.

Taeyong hummed, astutely noticing Kun’s gaze. ‘A gift from the Viscount — generous guy, truly.’ He took one hand from his pocket to point at a spot on his abdomen. ‘The scars start from here, and go all the way up. But I don’t mind too much — it was either that, or I let the Viscount kill Johnny.’ He shook his head like he was remembering a harmless schoolyard fight. ‘Did you know that scars from the Viscount never go away?’ he continued. ‘I’m supposing you don’t have anything like that, do you?’

The way he asked wasn’t bitter, or accusing, or passive aggressive. It sounded so genuine coming from him, so mundane — he may as well have asked him about the weather. It chilled Kun in a terrible way that he could switch like this; he could go from honey-sweet to spine-chilling in a matter of milliseconds, and one never knew what he was thinking. Was he cruel, or wasn’t he? Kun had a century to think on it and never quite figured it out.

Taeyong continued. ‘He didn’t like that I let you slip through my fingers, I think. Well, actually, I _know_ , because he said as much when I was coughing blood up onto his boots. He’s so _fast…_ ’ He trailed off in a reminiscing tone, before sucking his teeth and continuing. ‘Brother Kun, you really put me in a tight spot for a while there. I shudder to think what the Viscount would’ve done to me if I’d let Johnny kill you.’

Then he shuddered theatrically, and giggled at himself. So pretty, so cute, so human. Kun felt sick.

‘I’m sorry, Taeyong,’ he said. ‘But I don’t regret leaving. I did what I needed to do.’

‘Yeah, yeah, we know the rigmarole,’ Taeyong said, waving a hand. ‘You grew a conscience all of a sudden, you handed in your two weeks’ notice, you went for Johnny’s throat, the Viscount went for _mine,_ and so on. And now we’re “rivals”. Maybe someday soon we can laugh about it?’

Kun decided to be honest. ‘You didn’t deserve that. I didn’t want the Viscount to...to…’

‘To avenge you?’ Taeyong finished for him. He nodded in understanding. ‘I know, Kun. But what’s done is done. History gets written whether we like it or not.’

A frigid, whistling gust blew by them, and they both braced against it until it passed.

‘What terrible weather for this time of year,’ complained Taeyong. ‘The Viscount’s coming to town, isn’t he? Just like Santa.’ He looked down at the icy cobbles of the bridge, and tapped the ground with his foot. A small patch of ice cracked audibly.

‘Whoopsie-daisy,’ Taeyong singsonged, not at all sarcastically.

Kun exhaled, trepidation moving aside for agitation. ‘What’s your game, Taeyong?’ 

‘My game? No game, Kun, dear. I take my job very seriously — ensuring the survival of our kind. Not something you try very hard at, I don’t think.’

‘I don’t care if we survive or not.’

‘Well I do. I care a lot. I won’t see my Circle – my _family_ – hunted down and slaughtered to extinction — by humans or otherwise. You were part of that family once, and I would’ve done anything for you.’

‘You kill people. You and yours are monsters.’

Taeyong paused, then leaned in close to Kun’s ear, voice now low and mocking. ‘Maybe we are monsters,’ he purred. ‘But who among us has killed the most, do you think?’

Kun felt a weight on him, heavy and oppressive. He tasted metal in his mouth, and felt it in his belly, twisting.

Taeyong leaned away again. Not quite satisfied with his rhetorical question, he continued. ‘Don’t think we’d forgotten the stories just because you turned over a new leaf. We know how you and your daddy dearest terrorised humanity for decades — the way he’d sic you on entire villages, until you drained every last man, woman, child and rat. Greedy little bastard you were, huh?’ He gave Kun a light, playful punch on the arm. ‘Tell me, because I wouldn’t know — do kids really taste better? _Sweeter?’_

It didn’t matter what Taeyong said, and how he said it — he couldn’t catch Kun off guard with his own truth. He’d sat with it: a cold, dead, ugly thing in his hands that he turned over and over and over until his fingertips were raw. There was shame, but there wasn’t denial. Never denial.

‘I hate my time wasted as much as you do,’ Kun said, letting his eyes bore into those of his former leader. ‘You wanted to talk about Ten, didn’t you?’

‘That’s right,’ Taeyong replied. ‘Donghyuck’s warning was friendly, I’m sure, but I’ve decided to expedite things, given that your Sire has decided to descend upon us again.’

Kun furrowed his brows. ‘What does that have to do with this?’

‘It has everything to do with this. I need Ten. I need what he has, because if I don’t have it by the time your Sire sees me again, I’m going to have a problem.’

‘Are you...’ started Kun, unsure if he was reading the right words between the right lines. ‘Are you going to start some kind of war with the Viscount?’

Taeyong shrugged. 

‘That’s the stupidest fucking idea you have ever had!’ said Kun, losing some of his propriety. ‘Are you out of your _mind?’_

‘Offended on your Sire’s behalf, are you?’

Kun inhaled deeply. ‘That’s not it. I’m not trying to defend him. I never cared for his—’

‘Babying?’ Taeyon interrupted sharply. ‘Favouritism? Mercy? You got to live your Vampiric life untouched while the rest of us got torn to shreds for the slightest offense. Must be nice not living in fear of his cruelty.’ 

Kun didn’t speak for a few seconds, letting Taeyong’s words fall to the ground and become frost. Then, quietly: ‘There are other ways to be cruel to someone, Taeyong.’ 

Taeyong opened his mouth, as if to argue, but closed it again. Then he nodded his concession. 

‘Look,’ he began, more amicably. ‘I’m not taking any chances with the Viscount. We’re not on good terms, and if he comes back here and tries anything with _my_ Circle, I want to be prepared. Our mutual friend Ten was part of that preparation.’

‘How so?’

‘You’re not on my side. I’m not telling you details like that. But I will say this: if the Viscount catches Ten in your manor, sleeping in your beds, rubbing shoulders with your people — you’ll be cleaning that troublemaker’s blood off your floors.’

Kun’s face must have betrayed something, because Taeyong nodded and continued. ‘That’s right, Kun. The Viscount wants him dead, and I don’t, so where do you think Ten will be safer?’ 

‘What did he do to the Viscount?’

‘Something bad enough to sign his death warrant, it seems.’

A realisation struck Kun and his head spun. ‘Does Ten know that I’m the Viscount’s…’

Taeyong shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. He knows less about Vampire politics than you might think.’

‘So why did Ten leave _you_? Why did he run from Civitas and straight to me?’

Taeyong became stone-faced for a moment — Kun knew the look well. Schooling his features into something unreadable, unknowable; the discipline of someone who kept a hundred-thousand secrets. When he spoke again, it was with a clinical authority.

‘His reasons are irrelevant. If he wants to live — if _you_ want him to live — you’ll return him before your Sire gets here. That should be enough of a deadline, in the truest sense of the word.’ 

He coolly reached up to brush a light dusting of snow off of Kun’s shoulders. ‘And if I _need_ to start a war in order to get him, Lord Qian, I will.’

Lord Lee turned and walked off, the threat stuck inside Kun like a spear through his stomach, trapping him in place on the bridge. Sicheng, Xuxi, Dejun, Kunhang, Yangyang: the names tumbled around in his head. The brothers he could lose in a war against Civitas.

Unless he gave up Ten.

That’s all. So simple. _Unless I give up Ten._

♔

The walk home felt longer. His eyelashes felt stiff from frost. He walked through his front doors and met the sound of chatter and laughter. Ten’s cackle stood out from the cacophony, because it always did to Kun. It always did.

He had some thinking to do, so he greeted no-one and went upstairs by himself.

In front of a mirror, Kun brushed a spot on his cheek, just above the dimple. The skin was smooth, unblemished. Taeyong had it wrong — scars from the Viscount did heal.

Sometimes.

They heal if he loves you. If he didn’t mean it. If you share his blood and he cut you just the right way, so that no-one ever had to know. Phantom scars lived all over Kun’s body — chest, back, throat, cheek, lip — and they were all made with love.

_All my love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Dan for patiently explaining to me how hospitals work, and to N for giving me (detailed) input on the character of Key. I am an experiential baby bird and you two are the mother birds who have fed me your knowledge!
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed meeting the new boys — thank you for your patience in waiting for this update! Also, writing Taeyong (an adorable, silly baby angel) as an antagonist is maybe the most ambitious feat I’ve ever taken on in my entire life?
> 
> Lastly, please forgive typos. I do my level best to weed those mfs out while editing, but some weasel their way through anyway. Thanks. I love you so much, reader.
> 
> k's and c's appreciated!


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